A Roundabout Way of Getting Revenge
by Memoria In Piscis Crusta
Summary: Harry Potter's gone crazy. Snape is the only one who seems to notice.
1. A Snape Rescues Harry Conundrum

**Chapter One**

"Snape Rescues Harry From The Dursleys. Harry Doesn't Need To Be Rescued. A Conundrum."

It was another one of Albus' impossible requests: retrieve the Boy-Who-Lived from his Muggle relatives. Severus Snape sighed wearily and tugged down the odd Muggle garment called a 't-shirt'. He'd thought to be free of the brat for a blissful summer only to have his fondest wish dashed with the Headmaster's earnestly blue eyes and his pleading order.

And why? For what reason was it necessary to take the 'saviour of wizarding kind' from what was conceivably the safest location for him?

"Because he's _unhappy_, Severus, and hasn't he been dealt a harsh enough hand already?"

Snape snorted. Potter had been given shelter, food, friends, and enough gold to last him through the entirety of his life – not to mention the love and protection of the greatest wizard of the time, Albus Dumbledore. It was the foolish child's own fault that he'd gotten his equally foolish dog-father killed. Maybe now he'dknow not to jump blindly into situations he had no control over – maybe now he'd sit still and _learn_ something other than willful disobedience – maybe now he'd stop being a BLOODY THORN IN SNAPE'S SIDE. But no, Snape could well remember being an adolescent.

Right now Potter wasn't considering the brashness of his actions. He wasn't studying to improve himself so that when the chance came, he could finally rid the world of the Bastard-Who-Wouldn't-Stay-Dead. He probably wasn't even doing his homework. What he _was_ doing was contemplating the many ways all the things that had gone wrong in his life were Snape's fault. And possibly Voldemort's, but Snape had better money on himself being the object of Potter's ire – he knew full well what the furious glance Potter had cast him before leaving Hogwarts had meant.

Which made making _him_ retrieve the boy especially pointless. Never mind the fact that Snape couldn't be seen helping Potter for fear of word getting back to Voldemort – that he was risking his position as a spy, and therefore his life and the lives of all the countless others he might have been able to save – that he hated the little bugger with a passion that rivaled his devotion to Potions – never mind all that, because Potter was "unhappy".

Snape muttered unpleasant things under his breath. It was better not to have heard what they were, as they'd made all green things in the vicinity wilt and turn brown. He raised his hand to rap at the door before him, pausing as he heard multiple voices within all screeching and screaming somewhat hysterically. He frowned. While he knew Potter's family life was not harmonious from various Occlumency lessons, this sounded like something entirely different. This sounded like fear and panic, not anger. He raised his hand again, and then paused again; this time not because of raised voices, but because of an awful _pressure_ that was building in the air.

All his instincts were screaming at Snape, saying, "Oh shit, run run run RUN YOU BLOODY FOOL!" He managed a few stumbling steps backwards. Then the house in front of him… exploded.

Well, to be fair, it was only the roof.

Thrown to his arse by the shock, Snape managed to gape up at the plume of fire and smoke rising from the top of the intact-as-of-five-seconds-ago house. The door opened from the inside and the subject of Snape's earlier consternation stomped outside.

Harry Potter was still annoyingly scrawny. His smallness had irritated Snape since their first meeting, when Snape felt a wash of despair. This – this puling runt of a boy was the hope of the wizard world? This insignificant Gryffindor with too much bravery to pack into such a tiny frame was supposed to save _him_ - save _all of them_?

Besides being scrawny, Harry Potter was also injured, with blood dripping down his cheek. And grinning. And carrying a sack over his shoulder that appeared to be empty.

He looked down at Snape with amused green eyes… green eyes that glinted strangely behind thick glasses… green eyes that were eerie and slightly _off _in an indefinable way… and then he said: "Hullo Professor. Wasn't expecting you."

"Potter." Thank all the deities, Snape's voice hadn't shaken. "What was that." He couldn't, however, work up enough expression to make simple statements into questions.

"'That', Professor? To which 'that' are you referring?"

Snape pointed with one long, slightly yellow finger to a spot behind Harry's head. "'That' that. Your domicile. It appears to be missing a top."

"Oh," Harry grinned boyishly. It was a remarkably frightening sight. "I suppose 'that' is the end result of getting me angry. Sir. I suppose it's something you'll want to be avoiding. Sir. Although I do wonder what Hogwarts would look like without a roof. Sir."

Snape grit his teeth. He knew it when he heard blatant threats. He also knew it when they were valid. "Point. Made."

"Point?" Harry said guilelessly. "I wasn't aware of any point. Sir. I thought we were just making casual conversation. Sir."

Snape grit his teeth harder. He had the feeling that by the end of this regrettable conversation, they'd be reduced to nubs; he pictured the rest of his life having to cut his food to tiny, manageable pieces, like a doddering old man. He shuddered and resolved to gain better self-control… as usually happened, the resolve lasted only as long as it took for Potter to open his mouth once again.

"Well, if we're done speaking, I really must be going. Sir."

Slowly, slightly painfully (for he was no longer young, except for his right hand, which was rather a long story in and of itself), Snape got to his feet. "Potter," he said. If it didn't have the overtone of malice and sheer dislike, it would have been easier to hear that it was spoken with a hopeless sort of voice, the kind that doesn't know what it's supposed to do next. "The Headmaster sent me to take you back to Hogwarts."

"Oh? Well, thank you all the same, but I'd rather somewhere else. Sir."

Behind Harry's insolently grinning face, in the open doorway of the still-burning house, a portly man stepped through. He was beaming somewhat fanatically in Snape's direction, jovial, robust. Muggle. Snape's lip curled instinctively in disgust.

"Eh, what's this, boy?" the man called out. He strode forward and came to rest behind and to the right of Harry. He shoved a meaty palm in Snape's general direction; Snape disdainfully shook it. "A… a _friend_ of yours, boy? A… a…."

Harry sighed long-sufferingly. Snape looked sharply at the boy as this sound was issued, but found he couldn't read him. How irritating. "Yes, Uncle Vernon," Harry replied. "He's a wizard. You know. Magic." He made an 'ooooh' sound. "Scary."

"Oh, oh, surely not," the man blustered. "Not frightful in the least." His red face was extremely blotchy, perhaps from the heat. Heat would also explain away the beads of sweat that were quickly traveling down his face. "Er. So, you'll be going then, boy?"

"Yes, yes, I'll be going, Uncle Vernon. Until next summer. Or maybe Christmas. I might come back for Christmas."

Snape was watching both of them quite closely, which was why he caught the malicious smirk that briefly appeared and then disappeared on Harry's lips; why he caught the frightened shudder that shook the Muggle, and the absolutely terrified expression on his face that quickly turned to a painful, fake smile. "Of course, of course – it'd be a real delight to have you home for the winter holidays, boy." Vernon Dursley was not a good liar.

"I have a name, Uncle Vernon," Harry pointed out. "I don't suppose you've ever learned it in all the years I've stayed with you. Ah well." He took a few steps away from his uncle. "Tell Aunt Petunia and Dudley I said 'bye'. Oh, and I suppose you could throw in, 'see you soon' as well." He looked over his shoulder at the smoking house, at his uncle's red, red face. "You might want to phone for firefighters soon."

With that he went to Snape's side, walked past it, called, "Hurry up. Sir. We've got a ways to go. Sir."

Snape threw a glare as if it were a physical weapon at the Muggle and was pleased to see the profusely sweating man flinch, then twitch. It was nice to see that not everyone was now immune to him. Then he swiftly whirled around and overtook Harry, not allowing the boy to have the lead. He was **Severus Snape**. No one led him.

"I have a port-key," he said tersely.

He saw Potter give him a thoughtful look from the corner of his eye. "But it's to Hogwarts, and I'm not going to Hogwarts. Sir."

"Yes, you are."

"Well. Sir. I suppose I _could_ go to Hogwarts. Sir."

"Your graciousness astounds me."

Harry continued speaking as if Snape never had. "I'm sure that Professor Dumbledore would appreciate the many new skylights I could give the castle. Sir. It would really… **brighten**… the place up. Sir."

Snape grit his teeth. "All right, Mr. Potter. Where would you like to go, then?"

"I think…" Harry tilted his head contemplatively to the side, looking like nothing so much as a demented bird. "…Headquarters. Sir. If you would. Sir."

Nubs. His teeth would be nubs.


	2. British Equals Tea

**Chapter Two**

"They're British. Of Course There's Tea."

Snape didn't know how Remus Lupin had found out that Harry was leaving No. 4 Privet Drive, let alone that the brat would demand to be taken to Headquarters; he might have assumed that the werewolf had spontaneously developed psychic powers if not for his long association with Trelawney having disillusioned him to that possibility altogether. After breathing in that horrendous incense and having to listen to endless lectures on 'inner eyes' for over a decade, Snape had become a bigger skeptic than McGonagall, which was saying something.

Lupin was waiting for them in the kitchen with tea already set out. "Severus, Harry," he inclined his head. "Would you like to sit down to some tea?"

Snape curled his lip and was about to say 'No, I would not like some of your _tea,_' in the most insulting way he could manage. Then he noticed that there were only two cups on the table. The invitation hadn't included him. He stalked his way to the floo, hearing distantly behind him a polite, "Hello Professor Lupin."

He left before he could hear the reply.

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"He's in a nasty mood," Remus said wryly. Grief still marked his features with harsh lines, but his voice held hints of humour that Harry found heartening.

"He's a nasty _sort_," Harry responded cheerily. "Why was he the one to get me from the Dursleys? I thought Order wizards would've been around – and less likely to have been compromised by being in my presence."

Remus chuckled. "Order wizards wouldn't have been able to breach the protective wards on your relatives' house long enough to knock on the door. As a faculty member of your school, Severus has the capability – though he's strictly monitored through charms, and if he had tried to Apparate with you, would quickly find himself in Ministry custody. Authorized port-keys are fine, however." He raised a brow. "So, why _was_ he so upset?"

Harry smiled. It was the exact same smile that Lily used to wear when contemplating all the horrible things she'd do to humiliate James in front of his friends. Seeing it made Remus nostalgic. "Oh, probably because he didn't _have_ to knock on the door."

Remus frowned quizzically at the cryptic answer, but didn't bother to demand clarification. "Albus sent me over here when it became apparent that you weren't going to Hogwarts. Was there any reason why you wanted to come… here?"

"Yes," Harry said. He sipped cautiously at the steaming tea, then craned his head to look around inquisitively. "Are there any biscuits?"

Remus motioned impatiently with his wand to the cupboard above the stove. It opened, and a package levitated out to travel through the air and eventually rest on the table in front of Harry.

"Ta," Harry thanked him. He opened the package and pulled out a sweet meditatively, dipping it in his tea to turn it soggy before eating it slowly.

Once that one was done, he took another. Then another. And another. All eaten with the same deliberate movements; all eaten slowly, methodically.

Remus almost snorted from the amusement alone – it was obvious that Harry was trying to bait him. Not a terribly clever thing to do with a werewolf, but they both knew that there was no way Remus would ever harm Harry. "Would there be any chance, any remote possibility that you'd tell me why you wanted to come here?"

Harry paused in his contemplation of a soggy biscuit. "No," he decided. "Most likely not." When he raised his eyes to look Remus in the face, Remus was struck by the horribly saddened light in them; and he became aware, tangibly aware, that he wasn't the only one still grieving. He reached out one scarred hand and patted Harry comfortingly on the wrist.

"All right," he said. "All right."

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Albus was waiting for him in his office, beaming with a mug of mint tea at the ready and a dish of sherbet lemons. Snape let his customary sneer control his features; otherwise he'd look pathetically grateful, and he'd been embarrassed enough already in his adolescence at the hands of Black and Potter to last him through the whole rest of his life.

"He's safely ensconced at Headquarters," Snape informed the Headmaster brusquely, sitting down across from the old man with an inaudible sigh. "Last I saw, Lupin was with him."

"Yes, I know," Dumbledore replied. His twinkle remained undiminished. "I sent him there. Unfortunately, he cannot remain for much longer – there's a mission I must send him on, much like the one Hagrid completed for me last year. This means that I must ask a favour from you once again, Severus."

Snape's eyes narrowed. Horrible suspicion lashed within him, and he bared his teeth in a snarl. "Oh, no. No. Bloody _hell_ no."

"Language," Dumbledore warned, still twinkling. "Of course if you find the prospect so unbearable, I will have no choice but to bring Harry to Hogwarts against his will. Certainly his relatives' home would be unfit for him, given its nonexistent state; I wonder how long Hogwarts will last?"

Oh, this was not to be borne! First Potter was making threats – and now, now the Headmaster was doing so as well! For Albus Dumbledore knew that the one thing Snape was most possessive and protective of was what he considered his first, and true, home. Hogwarts. Snape would not permit anything to harm the castle he'd come to think of as his sanctuary. "How do you know of Potter's actions?" Snape questioned stiffly.

"Ah, a while ago, I set his wards to also allow me to hear everything that occurs within them. In case of attack." Dumbledore smiled cheerily, expression completely at odds with his words. "Here, would you like a listen? It's most fascinating, what Muggles will do to quench a fire."

Without waiting for Snape's assent, Dumbledore tapped his wand to a spherical object on his desk .The room was suddenly filled with the sound of water gushing.

"MY STUFF!" a young, adolescent male's voice screamed out in genuine agony. "MUM, ALL MY STUFF IS _BURNING_!"

"Now, now, Dudders," a quavering woman's voice soothed. "It'll be all right. It's all replaceable. Don't worry, my sweet."

"That's right, we'll move!" This was a voice Snape could recognize, having heard it only a scant hour and a half before. It was still strangely jovial; upbeat. Snape frowned. A man who had just lost everything he'd ever owned should not be this cheerful. "Far, far away. Where he – er, no one will find us. Ever."

Dumbledore tapped his wand against the sphere again. The sound abruptly stopped. "Fascinating bit of charm-work, isn't it? Lily was just developing it before she went into hiding, and then Sylph Lovegood took over where she left off. I believe she had plans to refine it further… before that rather unfortunate accident."

Snape snorted. Only Dumbledore would refer to a failed attempt to summon a demon – one of the most ancient of all magics – that resulted in the rending to shreds of what used to be a human body as an 'unfortunate accident'. Snape really didn't want to know what the young prodigy/idiot had in mind when she cast that spell, and could only hope that her daughter did not follow the same path. He felt fairy secure in that wish, actually, having had Luna Lovegood as a student for the past four years. She tended to the abstract more than the practical… almost annoyingly so, but no matter. "Enough with the chit-chat," he said harshly to Albus. "You're going to require this of me no matter what my preference, aren't you?"

Dumbledore shook his head wordlessly. "Of course not. There are always more options than the one that appears clearest. If you truly find the idea of spending the remaining three weeks of holiday at Headquarters in the company of a teenaged wizard so abhorrent, I would not force it on you. I would, of course, have to exhaust other resources in order to provide adequate protection for him… and inconvenience other Order members… and throw operation schedules off their timing… but I would not force you."

Snape's eyes narrowed in impotent rage. The old man was good. Instead of threats, now it was guilt. He marked himself a sad Slytherin that he couldn't even avoid this manipulation – for manipulation it was, and rather obvious at that – and found himself nodding his head. "All right," he growled in disgust. "Seeing as I have no urgent projects, I shall do as you ask."

Dumbledore beamed brightly. "Excellent!"

Snape quickly drained his tea and surreptitiously pocketed a few sherbet lemons. "I must pack," he said, standing abruptly and sweeping majestically from the office.

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"You know," Remus remarked casually as he took away Harry's cup to be washed, "you might want to invest a little more effort into getting along with Professor Snape. If I'm guessing right, when I have to go tomorrow, it'll be him that comes to take my place."

"Oh?" Harry's green eyes glowed with an intrigued light. He smiled in a way that was almost predatory – a smile full of gleaming teeth that wasn't quite a smile at all. "That should be… interesting."

* * *

Hi! waves I wanna thank all of my reviewers! I lovethe positive feedback!

**duj** - Not quite. You'll see what I mean in a few chapters or so... but our young Mr. Potter's not as bad as he seems, trust me!

**Cressida Aliora** - Thanks bunches! Is this soon enough for you?

**AwesomePossum** - Yay! I loved your review! It was beyond awesome... I hope I continue to be worthy of your sunglasses.

**djdeb** - Hehe, yeah, I hoped someone would like that last line! Thanks a lot!

**Clodia** - Heh, just wait till you see what happens a few chapters from now!

**Madness** - Yep, he did indeed... Or did he? (A li'l hint of foreshadowing... melodramatic DUN DUN DUN)

**mb** - Heh, yeah, it was awesome writing Snape twitching out... trying to figure out just how to deal with Harry... little does he know, it'll only get worse from here on out! Hope this is soon enough for you! return hug


	3. A Tale of Two House Elves, Both Alike In...

**Chapter Three**

"A Tale Of Two House Elves."

Before doing anything else, Harry shut Kreacher in the wall.

He did it at night, of course, when no one could see him to stop him – though he had the feeling that Remus knew and approved when, in the morning, the old wolf beamed fondly at him and patted him gently on the head. And it wasn't as if Kreacher would _die_ or anything; the stasis spell he'd found rummaging through the Black's family library ensured that he'd live for a nice, long time. In the wall. Incapable of movement; incapable of thought; incapable of much, really, aside from breathing. Harry smiled a slow smile at the thought. He'd let the house elf out before he left for Hogwarts. Probably.

This did leave a problem, however, of who would do the cooking and cleaning now that they were sans House Elf. It was solved rather easily by Dumbledore via fire conference, when he twinkled amiably and said, "Oh, certainly if Kreacher doesn't feel up to satisfying the needs of the house, we can send up a house elf." He winked rather conspicuously at Harry. "Perhaps one that will cheer you up, my boy."

Harry smiled back at him, knowing what that meant: Dobby. It'd been a while since he'd seen the creature, and when Dobby wasn't trying to 'keep him safe', he really was quite cheering company. The only thing that dampened the event was that he knew, he just knew, that Dumbledore was only allowing it because the old man was so _sure_ that he was depressed. The little gifts Harry had been sent all summer long, the personal notes, the frequent checks into his safety and well-being… they all added up to suicide watch. Or, possibly, court-ship. But Harry _so_ didn't want to go there.

"Thank you, Professor Dumbledore," he replied instead. "It'll be nice to have a friend around." A sudden thought occurred to him, one so conniving, so plotting, so _Slytherin_ that he barely managed to suppress a smirk. Play-acting, he let loose a long sigh. "It just seems like I haven't seen any friends in a long time…. All summer, in fact…. It's like I haven't got any friends… _at all_."

Dumbledore's eyes took on a slightly panicked glitter, and he hurriedly said, "Well, I'm sure that it can be arranged for Miss Granger and Mister Weasley to come for a visit later on this month. They've already expressed a desire to do so, after all."

Harry beamed, having gotten what he was angling for. "Thank you so much, Professor," he said gratefully. He didn't even have to fake the emotion – he did miss his two best friends terribly, an ache that was only made worse by the knowledge of what he'd have to do once they got back to Hogwarts. He wanted to enjoy what time left he had with his friends before he began to alienate them… last year had been too close, had hit too hard. He knew now that some of those who followed him would die.

He wouldn't let it be them.

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There was a House Elf in Snape's chambers.

He glared at it.

It glared back.

That was a new occurrence.

"What," Snape said icily, clearly, "are you doing here, in my rooms?"

"Dobby is being here to make sure that Professor Snape is going to Harry Potter's side on time," the elf said in a high-pitched tone. Snape rolled his eyes, not bothering to care that he might be treading on sensitive sensibilities. It was **expected** of him. Besides, he felt he deserved a little bit of exasperation in return for having to deal with another one of Potter's supporters. Snape could tell by now who those were – they were the only ones who had ever managed, to his knowledge, to sound quite so self-righteous.

"I will be there when it is convenient for me," he replied. Then paused. Why was he bothering to answer to a bloody **House Elf**? Honestly, his acquaintance with Albus was disturbing him mentally on a more fundamental level than he'd previously thought. He sighed long-sufferingly and pocketed his shrunken trunk. At the House Elf's particularly large, wibbling eyes, he relented and said, "All right, I'll go now."

The elf beamed ecstatically. "We is be going by port-key! Professor Dumbles is giving it to Dobby last night!" And he proudly withdrew from… somewhere… a neon orange sock. Snape felt vaguely blinded just staring at it.

But he couldn't be bothered with the fact that a mere House Elf had been entrusted with a port-key that would be used to transport **him**. No; he had to clarify matters first. "**We**?" he asked silkily. "Pray tell, what is this 'we' you speak of?"

"Dobby is coming with Professor Snape! Dobby is taking care of Harry Potter!"

Unbidden, a thought rose up in Snape's black and inky mind, one that provoked a deep and utter sense of horror that settled in his stomach and provoked nausea. It was this: 'Oh Merlin, the next three weeks are going to be hell.'

The thought was only affirmed a few minutes later, when he tumbled from the force of port-key to watch the sickening scene of Lupin bidding farewell to Potter. They just **oozed** Gryffindor sentimentality with their soft and lingering gazes, their handshake that lasted too long to be brisk; the cautious hug that was given by Potter and just as cautiously received by Lupin. It was only due to iron will that Snape managed not to sick-up at the sight of Potter's eyes glittering as if suppressing tears as the wolf activated his own port-key and disappeared from view.

"Well," Snape said into the sudden silence. "That's a relief."

Potter glanced at him languorously, all signs of being upset miraculously vanished. Beneath the heavy glass of his spectacles his green eyes were slanted and calculating. "Oh, I see," he said matter-of-factly. "Because he's a werewolf, right Professor? You don't like to associate with those… Dark… creatures, do you." His verdant eyes flicked to Snape's arm, where the Mark had been burned and burned still. "Sir."

Snape bristled. But what was worse, he flushed.

A sure sign of guilt.

"I'm sure you can find a suitable set of rooms. Sir. I'm sorry that we don't have dungeons to accommodate you. Sir. I know that they are your preferred habitat. Sir. I suppose you'll just have to deal with the trials of sunlight. Sir." Potter smiled at him quite insincerely, then turned to the House Elf that was fairly bouncing in place for the brat's attention. "Dobby!" It was strange, to hear the teen's voice formerly so stilted suddenly turn inexplicably warm. "How wonderful to see you! How have you been?"

Feeling quite dismissed, and not liking the sensation, Snape stalked past the duo and made for the distant stairs. There would be time enough for him to humiliate Potter – twenty one days worth at any rate – and while usually baiting the brat wasn't something he'd put off for any length of time… today…

Today, he wasn't in the mood.

And he'd hex anyone who suggested it had something to do with the shame Potter had awoken within him with one too-green glance.

* * *

Wow, I'm a quick up-dater today! Well, please don't expect me to be so speedy again - it's difficult to do so around my homework and exam schedule... not to mention I'm graduating this year, so all the extracurricular activities have begun to add up. But I sat down at my computer last night and today and began to type, and this quite speedily came out! Hmm, I was trying to make my story humorous, but it keeps on sliding to the angst/drama! I'm so sorry! I guess it's my melodramatic personality shining through. Also, I'm sorry this chapter wasn't as long as the others - it just came to a point where it felt like it wanted to stop. Next chapter will be better, though!

Well, again, thank you to all my reviewers! You guys are so wonderful - I'm loving all the positive feedback, especially the constructive comments!

**Blaise - **Thank you! I hope this next installment came quick enough.

**Cressida Aliora** - Hee, I hope you don't have any objections to me updating _faster_ than I did last time! I'm glad you liked the second chapter as much as the first - I was afraid it wouldn't be as good in comparison.

**Echo the Insane - **Ah! I'm so glad to be considered good fanfiction! And I agree with crazy Harry good Harry. You have no idea how much fun it is to write in the Dursleys, semi-quivering in terror... I think there's quite a bit of Dursley hate going on, as if all of Harry's fans are uniting to wreak vengeance on that clan of swine! I'm glad to have made my contribution.

**djdeb** - Hee, yeah I can't wait to see what Harry will do to Snape either! I have a lot of ideas, but most of the best ones just seem to come to me as I write. If you had any suggestions, I'd be glad to try to incorporate them into the story... as long as they fit in with my plot, of course!

**mb - **I love reading your reviews because then I always get hugged! (That was such a weird thing to say... but it's true! I'm the biggest hugger I know - like a cat, or something! Hehe.) Heh, that would be so the coolest, if Snape _were_ Sorted into Hufflepuff... I have to admit, I'm extremely partial to Hufflepuffs. And don't you think that emotional blackmail is the only kind that would really work on Snape? I don't think he'd be careless enough for anyone to get any dirt on him... And as for whether or not Harry and Snape will reach an understanding -- well, that's a surprise. Hugs back!

**blackshift** - Ack! No! Don't flame! Glad you like it so far!

**AwesomePossum** - Ahhh! **points delightedly** It's the review that makes me always crack up! How awesome! I suppose I must gift you with a new pair of sunglasses, seeing as it's my fault the last one broke... I'm sorry! And simultaneously happy! What a strange contradiction! Hee, I absolutely adore your Watson.

**Howl** - Wow. Your review made me go all... tingly. I feel honoured to have someone such as yourself read and review; thank you for taking the time. I'm trying to make my Snape believable, and I hope that if I slip up you'll let me know. And don't worry! This story will have many more chapters to come.

**Clodia - **Indeed, torturing/baiting Snape makes _me _feel so happy/evil/happy as well! It seems that there are two of us at least that feel this way - mayhap we should form a society?


	4. 10 Points Off For Being

**Chapter Four**

"Predictable. Sadly Predictable."

The snowy owl flew into Snape's breakfast before he was fully awake; her landing provoked bits of sausage and egg to land on his face and in his hair. He blinked stupidly and wished fervently for a cup of good, strong tea.

Across the table, Potter was smirking. It was the sort of insufferable expression that had made teaching him for the last five years unbearable, just bordering on smug. Snape casually began to pick the food remnants from his person and sent a particularly scathing glare in the direction of the mildly hooting owl.

"Hedwig," Potter acknowledged the creature gently. "You have mail for me, girl?"

She thrust a letter-attached leg in his direction and preened as, after he'd detached the parchment, he proceeded to pet her gently and feed her bits of his breakfast. She nipped affectionately at his ear and then gracefully spread her wings and took to air, spiraling upwards and swerving once again outside. Snape looked at Potter's letter with vague interest – he recognized the crest. It was an official Ministry letter. "What's that, Potter?" he asked caustically. "Another expulsion letter for under aged illegal use of magic?" He credited himself for injecting into the statement just enough sneer to make Potter look defensive.

"Not at all. Sir. Professor Dumbledore made sure that I could practice under-age magic. Sir. He said I might need it to protect myself. Sir. I've been… _practicing_ all summer. Sir." Potter insolently held Snape's gaze as he spoke, and then dropped it to inspect the letter more carefully. He opened it slowly; despite himself, Snape began to feel intrigued. One down side to being a Head of House, he mused, was getting to be such a nosy busy-body. It had happened to all of them – McGonagall, Sprout, Flitwick. They had to know everything to do with their students. Before he'd been on the other end of things, Snape had thought that the Professors were pervy voyeurs; now he knew that it was just over-whelming boredom that drove their actions.

"Well, what is it!"

Potter ignored him, eyes scanning the parchment, lips moving slightly as he read.

"Potter!"

He finally looked up. There was an odd expression on his face, as if he were pushing down an absurdly strong emotion. He wasn't skilled enough at it to prevent Snape from knowing that he was trying to hide something, but he _was_ good enough that Snape had no clue what that thing was. "My Owl results. Sir. They've just come in. Sir." With clever hands, Potter quickly refolded the parchment and tucked it into his robes. "If you'll excuse me Professor, I have to write a few letters."

Snape picked the last bit of egg off the edge of his nose. He nodded curtly, knowing Potter didn't need his permission to leave, but enjoying the illusion nonetheless.

After he'd finished eating what was uncontaminated of his breakfast, Snape stalked into the library. It hadn't been safe to enter the last time he'd been in this god-forsaken place, but he'd been assured that it was no longer troubled with meddlesome pests. It would be… interesting… to browse through the collection of what was once the most notoriously Dark family in all the wizarding world.

Surprisingly, Potter was also there.

He had taken up residence in the far corner of the room, where a desk had been set up; he leaned intently over his piece of parchment, seriousness making him younger instead of older in appearance. It would have been a remarkably endearing sight, that of Potter with his wild black hair falling in tangles around his still slightly round face, green eyes serious and lower lip firmly bitten in concentration – would have been, had the observer not been Snape. As it was, the wizard merely glared at the boy and headed for the opposite direction, quickly finding an intriguing book and becoming engrossed in the acquisition of knowledge.

He was distracted when Potter stomped past him like a young elephant, disgruntlement the primary expression on his features. He was muttering under his breath, "…arg, what a _stupid_ time to run out of ink…"

Snape cast a narrow-eyed look at Potter's retreating form, then one towards the abandoned desk which bore the parchment laying out for all to see. He tapped himself contemplatively on the lips in thought, shook his head, and turned his attention back to the book. He managed to read five lines before realizing he didn't remember what they were about. He looked up again, to Potter's letter-in-progress… most likely to one of his cronies, bragging about his undoubted excellent grades. Snape snorted quietly in disgust. As if the adjudicators would have given Harry bloody Potter anything less than perfect, no matter the subject, no matter his incompetence. Still, he couldn't tear his gaze away from the letter.

You're a Potions Master, he told himself sternly. Self-control is your discipline.

A sneaky inner voice piped up. It sounded, strangely enough, like Potter. "But we've also established that you, like the other Professors, are a pervy voyeur. So… why not?"

Why not?

Well. Well, now, that was actually a very good question. Snape thought hard about it, considering the ethics of the situation – the boy had left the letter out in plain sight, when he _knew_ Snape was in the room. He hadn't specifically asked Snape not to read it. He hadn't rolled it up and put it out view (the more logical voice in Snape's head pointed out that to do so would smear the drying ink and render the letter illegible. He ignored it) or in any other way tried to conceal it. It was practically an _invitation_. And, really, when had _any_ Snape _ever_ been concerned with _**ethics**_?

Moving with the quick grace that so cowed First Years when they saw him swooping like a great black bat down the halls, Snape walked to the desk. Indeed, as Snape had suspected, the letter was to Hermione Granger, one of the most regrettably brilliant young witches Snape had ever taught. She was an annoyance to have in class, more for the fact that Snape knew she'd get herself killed following Potter Jr. than for any academic reason. It was such an utter waste to see someone so gifted, to teach someone so bright, and know – with a bone deep certainty – that he would never see her accomplish anything other than dying heroically in service of Dumbledore's oh-so vaunted 'Light'.

Snape scanned the letter quickly, lip curled in subconscious disgust as he took in Potter's careless, messy scrawl. Honestly, the brat put in no effort whatsoever in everything he did. As he read on, his disgust became more pronounced and his shock was evidenced by the raised eyebrow that was climbing up his forehead by the second.

'Dear Hermione,

Look, you've got to help me. I know you're McGonagall's favourite, so I figure that if you ask she'll more likely say yes. Could you get her to somehow arrange re-testing on the Owls? I didn't do nearly so well as I should have… well, I guess you could say I didn't do so well. At all. I mean, I got an O on DADA – that's something, right? But everything else… well, I was lucky to get an A in Charms and Care of Magical Creatures. And they're the only ones I did get A's in.

I don't know what happened. I mean, I don't do that badly in classes. Most of the teachers have stopped having to give me additional tutorials by now, though McGonagall still has to go over a few lessons after class for me still. But I've been doing better in Charms, so I don't know why I couldn't scrape an EE… I mean, you'd think with all the hexes and spells I've had to learn, I'd be getting better grades.

You know what I want to do when we graduate. You've got to help me. Please, if we've ever been friends"

… and that was where the letter stopped.

If Potter was shocked when Snape stalked past him on his way back into the library, Snape didn't bother to look down and check. If he had, he'd have been all-too tempted to strangle the wretched little brat.

He was in a towering fury – well, a fury tempered by deep despair. This – this pathetic, idiotic, _useless_ boy was supposed to save them? The simpleton couldn't even manage decent _test_ scores, let alone save the world! And then to go _whining_ about it…! They'd never make it past Christmas!

Behind him, Harry walked calmly – serenely, even – to the waiting letter. He stood over it contemplatively with a bottle of ink in his hand. He quietly cast a simple charm to tell him whether or not his items had been disturbed, one that any boy who lived in a dorm for roughly ten months out of the year with four other boys would learn in the first week if only to keep hisprivacy. He smiled in grim satisfaction when the spell told him that yes, the letter had been read.

"You really are too predictable," he murmured with empty eyes to an empty room. "Sir." With a casual flick of the wand, he Incendio'd the letter. As it smoldered to ash, he sat down and took out a new piece of parchment. With a steady hand, he began to pen, "Dear Hermione, you'll never believe how I did on my Owls – I guess all your tutoring paid off after all…"

* * *

Hi everyone! I just finished my last exam today, so I'm feeling rather unburdened. It was nice to come home and work on this latest chapter too - let me know what you think about Harry's latest machinations against Snape, please! I promise that there's a point to all this Snape-baiting that Harry's engaging in; it'll just take a while to come to light. I think that this story will end up being at least ten chapter long, but it won't delve into time at Hogwarts; it's strictly a No. 12 Grimmauld type 'fic. I **might** write a sequel (I've actually got a few ideas planned out already), but that depends on how much time I have available. Anyways, thanks SO much to all the reviewers and readers - knowing my work is being read is enough to make me smile.

**blackshift - **Thank you for the Snape IC comment! I try really hard to make him that way. And I know that Harry's not really IC right now, but it'll all make sense by the second-to-last chapter, I swear. I'm glad that you find the story funny - humour's a hard medium to master, and all I can do is try. Thank you for reading the attempt!

**Cressida Aliora** - I hope this is fast enough for you. And no, I'm not on vacation right now - I'm just lacking homework. I hope that you're enjoying your break! Read a lot of fanfic! (... it's what I do...)

**Clodia - **Yay! I have my first rabid fan! Now, you must go and bite others and infect them so that they, too, will adore the Memoria. Hm, as one of the co-founders of "The Official Snape Torture/Baiting Society for the Happy/Evil/Happy", must I still pay membership fees? And yes, Remus is rather... lickable... heh. Thanks so much for saying Harry's retained his Harryosity! I've tried to keep him slightly the same... and it _is_ way more fun to make him crazy than grouchy!

**mb - **You know, mb, it has occurred to me that for two people that have never met, we have a very physical relationship. Oh well! **hug** Thanks so much for your thoughtful comments - I hadn't even considered the contrast of Harry's Slytherin and Gryffindor natures each popping up in successive sections. Heh. I must be more talented than I thought! (Oh, and modest. Modest too.) I hope you like this chapter.

**Howl **- So glad you liked that line! It was one of my favourites as well. Hm, you make muchly with the literary references; very cool! I'm not sure that I'd say Harry's going Jekyll and Hyde on Dumbledore... I'd say more like harmlessly manipulative. He's really not that malicious. You'll see what I mean later on. Thanks for recommending me to your friend! I hope she enjoys the story as well. And I hope to keep up the constant updates, but can make no concrete promises. Thank you anyway for your support!

**djdeb** - Hm, well, Snape already knows that Something Is Not Right. If he actually realises what really is wrong, I'll be surprised, but my plans don't have him acting on his realisations until near the end of the story. I'm glad you think it's funny! I've tried really hard for that effect. And don't worry, I have full intentions of completing this story!

**Cap'n Dru Shaddix** - I'm glad! Thank you!


	5. A Snape Tutors Harry Conundrum

**Chapter Five**

"Snape Offers To Tutor Harry. Harry Doesn't Want To Be Tutored. A Conundrum."

Snape knew what he had to do.

It didn't mean that he liked it; it meant that he recognized he had a duty, and that it was worth more than his life and pride and whatever was left of his sanity. It meant that he had to tutor Harry Potter.

Oh, he hated the boy – it was no secret – but he _was_ aware of his importance. It wasn't that Snape believed whatever tripe Albus managed to spew, about the boy having the fate of being the only one able to vanquish the Dark Lord; it was that the _Dark Lord_ believed it and, as all self-fulfilling prophecies tend to do, would bring about a final showdown between them through his own machinations. Therefore, the little horror had to be at least proficient in his magic to have a fighting chance.

After he had calmed down and suppressed the overwhelming urge to bludgeon the boy over the head with the nearest blunt object he could find, Snape thought clearly and objectively about the subjects that needed covering. Potions was a complete wash, the boy having no practical skills and almost no knowledge; but a basic brush up on poisons would probably be in his best interests so he'd know if anyone in his House tended towards traitorous inclinations at mealtimes. Charms would be needed, as well as Transfigurations. Snape had hardly excelled at either, but he knew enough to be competent. Since the brat had professedly scored an 'O' at Defense, perhaps he wouldn't need to go over it again – but, Snape smiledtightly with anticipation,would most likely… _benefit_… from repeated drills.

The fact that it would give him a legitimate excuse to attack the spoiled, arrogant idiot was gleefully glossed over.

He spent the time between lunch and dinner writing out a lesson plan that dealt mainly with offensive magic, fine-tuning it and adding in a few more details. Nothing much could be done in three weeks, of course, but once back at Hogwarts, Snape had every intention of enlisting other Professors in the endeavor. Clutching the parchment in a white-knuckled grip, he swept down the stairs to the kitchen.

Potter was already there, sipping calmly from a glass of pumpkin juice as the ridiculous House Elf pranced around excitedly. Snape sneered. It seemed that no matter where Potter went, sycophants were sure to follow.

"Professor," Potter acknowledged him with a slight nod of a black head. "We were waiting for you. Sir."

Snape scowled. The only one he allowed admonishment from was Albus. And then, rarely. "Potter," he nodded back.

The House Elf set about to lay out dinner; Snape pulled out a chair from the table with a quick, jerking motion. He placed the parchment in the space between himself and Potter and looked at the boy with all the glittering malice he could force into his eyes. "We have a matter to discuss, Potter."

"Oh?" Potter's wide eyes were guileless beneath carelessly tangled hair. "What matter would that be, Professor?"

"It has come to my attention that you have not kept up in your studies these last few years." Snape sneered. "As such, I have taken it upon myself to devise a lesson plan to bring you to at least some proximity of the level enjoyed by your peers – or, failing that, to Longbottom's."

Potter's features tightened at the obvious slur against his so-called 'friend' (Snape snorted in disgust. Anyone could tell that Potter only kept the incompetent around for an ego boost.), but he didn't respond in the way Snape had expected. He stared calmly at Snape, waited for the House Elf to serve them both up full plates, and took a bite from his dinner. He chewed. Slowly. He swallowed. Slowly. He reached for his glass of juice and sipped. Slowly. Then, just as slowly as he'd done every other thing, in just as irritating a way as well, he enunciated a clear, "No." He reached again for his glass, paused, and added a "Sir."

Snape felt a familiar, overwhelming rush of rage. Oh, he _despised_ this boy. He'd like nothing so much as to wrap his admittedly potion-stained fingers around that skinny neck and just… **squeeze**. Here he was, attempting to make sure that the brat survived graduation, and the attempt was thrown in his face! He reined in his anger enough so that he could still manage to breathe. "Pardon me, Potter. I thought I heard you say 'no'."

Potter took a thoughtful bite out of his baked potato. He washed it down with more juice, then nodded. "That would be because I _did_ say 'no'. Sir."

"And why, pray tell," Snape gritted out, "are you saying 'no'?"

"I would prefer not to spend too much time in your company. Sir."

Snape's eyes narrowed. He couldn't help it this time, he really couldn't – he couldn't control the enraged swell of emotions that burst from him, resulting in him shouting the worst possible thing he could have: the truth. "You bloody ignorant ill-bred child! I am trying to _save you_!"

To Snape's shouted words Potter showed no reaction save to wipe a bit of spittle off of his cheek. He ate in silence, accompanied by the noise of Snape's gasps. Finally he said, "No," and smiled. It was quite natural on his face. "You're trying to save yourself." He matched his eyes to Snape's, and the look of them was terribly bright, was terribly cold. "Sir."

If there was a pudding for dinner, neither of them found out. Each stalked to his corner of the house, and neither could be heard from until morning.

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Then it was dawn, and they sat down in stony silence to breakfast together.

Then it was Potter, looking at Snape with calculating eyes, saying, "Only if you're nice."

Then it was Snape with an incensed voice saying, "Nice? You expect the **Dark Lord** to be _nice_-"

"Of course not," Potter rolled his eyes, and added a belated, "Sir." He sighed briefly. "I meant to my friends. When they come to visit, I don't want you to deliberately insult them or make them uncomfortable. Sir. Really, I'd prefer it if you didn't talk to them. Sir. Or look at them. Sir. At all. Sir."

Snape held a brief, but impassioned internal battle. Did he really want to just roll over and accede to Potter's wishes? To do so would go against what he'd spent the last half-decade trying to achieve. But it was truly a simple thing to ask for – something he was going to do anyways, having no wish to sit around listening to a Gryffindor gossip group. Of course it wouldn't do to even appear to be giving in to Potter, to seem as if he were allowing the fool to dictate his actions… but he could always re-establish boundaries when they were back at school. And really, he wasn't losing anything, and he was gaining what he'd been after to begin with.

He inclined his head. "Very well," he said.

He stood from the table and motioned for Potter to stay seated. Striding from the kitchen, he returned ten minutes later with a stack of books taller than he levitated behind him. He settled the stack on to the table next to Potter with a negligible flick of the wand. He smirked. "Read the first five chapters of all these for tomorrow." Payback began now.

Except that the brat didn't seem to be playing along – wasn't acting dismayed, or upset, or even as if he were about to protest, "But that's not _fair_," as if Snape gave a damn. Instead he was wearing a smirk of his own, reading the titles of the books Snape had selected from the library. "Very well. Sir. I'll get right on that. Sir. Whatever you want. Sir."

Snape grit his teeth (which made a particularly annoying inner voice chant, "Nubs! Nubs!) and nodded. "Yes. Er. You do that."

It was quite an annoying thing when the one you'd made it almost a study of in how to aggravate seemed to cultivate an entirely new personality on you overnight. It was more than he could take when, casually eating his scrambled eggs, Potter reached out and took the top book from the stack. He flipped it open and began to read – looking up insolently when Snape sputtered in shock. For a moment, Potter's eyes flashed in amusement; the laughter was quickly stifled, and his eyes dulled. The reaction had happened too quickly for Snape not to feel uneasy; moreover, it made it clear to him that Potter had been practicing hiding his emotions – practicing the basics of Occlumency – and could very well now be hiding something vital from Snape.

Biting back the urge to Legilimize the brat, for he had no urge to traipse through that hormonal quagmire of self-important melodrama ever again, Snape stalked from the kitchen. He paused in the doorway to look over his shoulder at Potter, still intently reading. "There will be a test tomorrow. On all of them." And allowed himself a self-satisfied smile when that finally got a squawk from the brat.

* * *

Ah! I'm really sorry that this update took longer to get out to you guys than previous ones - I was over at a friend's for the weekend (I actually share this account with her), and we spent more time playing outside or beating each other up than anything else; and then, coming home, I discovered to my consternation that my monitor was malfunctioning. I fixed _that _problem after a few hours, and now I'm finally updating! Thank you for yourpatience!

**Molly Morrison** - Wow! I've been recc'd! This is the second time it's happened (that I know of), which is extremely awesome. And no, the parallelism isn't a coincidence - I wanted to draw attention to the fact that what Snape was angry with Harry for doing, he did so as well. Oh, and this story won't end up being a Snape-mentors-Harry 'fic, so please don't worry about that. I might mention a few teaching interactions, but for the most part will focuse on other aspects of their characters. Thank you for your thoughtful comments!

**Cigale** - Thank you! I fully intend to keep going and I really appreciate your support. Hm, yes, Harry doesn't seem as if he would be that prudent, does he? Oh well, it'll make sense by the end, I swear!

**whereowhere-is-my-rabbit** - Yes, just thinking about Snape's teeth is enough to make you go 'Ewww', isn't it? I use tons of exclamation marks too - it's like, my secret vice (except I just told you about it...); and I'm extremely glad you found my story both funny and IC. I hope the rest of it lives up to the beginning! (...see, there's that exclamation mark again...)

**Cressida Aliora** - Ah! Indeed! Much misery! I'm sorry that this update won't reach you before you have to go back - I tried, I really did, but the monitor---! And thanks muchly for the best wishes on my weekend - it was terribly wonderful, and I feel ready to face school again. I hope your return isn't _too_ horrible! As for the rest of the letter - which one did you mean?

**Cap'n Dru Shaddix** - Haha, well, I update so frequently that I didn't think I really needed teasers. I'll think about it, though. I'm glad you like my story that much!

**Marikili **- Thank you! Here it is!

**tweeny-weeny **- I hope you've had a chance to get to the other chapters by now! It's really annoying when the 'site is all dysfunctional... I, too, know this from experience.

**Mooncheese **- Thank you!

**blackshift** - Oh, Snape will find out about what Harry's been doing - trust me on that! I'm glad you liked! I thought as I wrote it, "Hm, what would I do to someone who read my mail?" and this came out. I hope this is soon enough as an update - I know it's later than usual, but it couldn't be helped. Sorry again!

**Howl** - No, no! Don't end the ramble! It was thoroughly fantabulous, and I understand now what you meant about J&K!Harry. He _does_ have a very dual nature, where the Slytherin side often gets sublimated because it's less socially acceptable in comparison with his Gryffindor tendencies, which is where many unconscious personality conflicts come into play. I hadn't thought about it before, but your insight made me go, "Huh. That could make a good story!" - so many thanks! I always look forward to your reviews because they're such an ego boost. It's wonderful to catch an unbiased, detail view of my writing since I have rare opportunities at school. I'm very grateful to you for that - and I'd greatly appreciate it if you could tell me when my writing gets weak in any way. Thank you again!

**Strega** - Many thanks for reading! Hee, I've done the same passive aggressive thing to my parents too! I'm glad I could make you laugh (it always surprises me when someone says they laughed at what I wrote, because humour has always been my weakest genre... this story is all one long exercise in trying to push past my boundaries), and that you agree with my character development. It's hard to know if I'm steering in the right direction because I get so involved in the characters' heads as I see them... I don't know if that makes any sense... Anyway! Thank you again!

**WriterGirl859** - Thank you!

**kawaii chibi shun** - Hm, the Owl scores will pop up later on; Snape doesn't know what they are for a reason. And there's a reason other than grief for the way Harry's acting (a clue is in the title), but I do plan to write in some of his feelings concerning Sirius as well, fear not! I'm glad you found it amusing! Thanks so much for reading!

**AwesomePossum** - Are you okay! If you don't want to talk of it, that's fine, but your mention of the hospital made me worry. I hope this chapter helps cheer you up! Your review had me giggling alongside Sherlock (he's rather a strange sort, isn't he?). Well, since I don't want my brilliance to be blinding, I gift you with another pair of sunglasses! Plus, a gift certificate for sunglasses! I shall be your steady supplier!

**HandsOff** - Thank you! I'm glad you like.

**Em** - Hi! Heh, that _would_ knock ol' Sevvie for a loop if Harry got an 'O' in Potions, wouldn't it? And y'know, reading back in OotP, it's not unbelievable that he would since he said he felt more relaxed making the Potion than he had in Snape's classes... Hm... And hey! You've guessed one of my future scenes, y'know, the one with Dumbledore! And since you could anticipate the scene with letter... hm... it seems as if... you're reading my mind! Ack! There are things in there that no one should see! ...oh well. If I can't share with my hug-buddy, who can I share with? Oh, and yes, of course I'm modest. I'm so humble. And down to earth. And completely, utterly sane. Uh huh. :) Lotsa hugs!


	6. You Mean It's On PURPOSE?

**Chapter Six**

"The_ Real_ Reason For Snape's Greasy Hair."

It had been a week.

It had been a week since he'd begun to tortu – er, _tutor_ the idiot.

It had been a week filled with endless quizzes, curses, and potions-brewing; checkered with intervals of meals and sleep.

It had been a week, solid, of having to endure Potter's ludicrous questions, his miscast spells, his debilitating potions that always managed to have too much or too little of this or that, always managed to be stirred counterclockwise when it should have been clockwise, always…. Ugh.

It had been a week since Snape had seen what little was left of his sanity.

Nothing made sense. Potter _seemed_ to be reading the assigned texts that Snape left out for him. He was quite intent with the ones on the Defense and Charms, and managed to slog his way through some truly horrifically boring Transfigurations texts; and Snape knew that he did read them, because he managed to at least pass all the written quizzes.

It was when they got to the practical work that things got chancy, when Potter attempted a simple healing spell on Snape on the off chance that he'd manage to drag one of his friends into mortal peril _yet again_ in the near future and would need it to save their lives, that Snape grew horns and a tail and Potter collapsed to the floor in paroxysms of laughter. Snape would have been suspicious – because he was _always_ suspicious – if he hadn't been able to hear that Potter had technically cast the spell perfectly… and it had just as perfectly gone wrong.

It had no rhyme or reason. It had no logic.

What it did have was the amazing ability to give Snape horrible migraines that left him clutching at his head and wondering where his common sense had wandered off to.

They'd have a few days as a break, however, now that Granger had finally arrived for her much anticipated visit. She and Potter had been trading letters furiously for the past few mornings and evenings, and each time a new letter dropped down in front of Potter, a small, genuine smile would briefly light up his face. Snape sneered, but was secretly relieved that he wouldn't feel obligated to try to cram more knowledge into the useless child's head.

He'd never thought that he'd actually be looking forward to having yet another Gryffindor around; but at least it'd just be the one, as the younger Weasleys had gone to Egypt with the oldest one for the summer, far from the perceived danger of Wizarding Europe. Snape's eyes would be saved from that particularly glaring shade of red the entire family dubiously claimed as a hair colour.

Granger had finally flooed in that morning, bright-eyed and bushy-haired (though she was never anything but… Merlin knew that mane of hers could inspire millions of tasteless jokes, not to mention the hazard it would be in the Potions' lab - how she'd managed to not be a bigger mess-up than Longbottom with hair as wild as hers, Snape would never know. He kept his own nice and greasy to clump the locks together and prevent any strands from straying into random cauldrons.).

Keeping to their arrangement, Snape stayed away from the pair as most as he was able; but he couldn't help but overhear their conversation as he stalked past Granger's room to the kitchen a few minutes past lunch – he'd left them to eat together, and was now in search of his own sustenance. He heard her hushed voice through the cracks of the doorway, saying, "…well, yes, Harry, that's true, but if you tweak it _this _way…"

Snorting in grim amusement, Snape continued past. It was obvious Granger was trying to give Potter hair care advice to deal with his unruly mass. The irony was almost enough to undo him.

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Hermione and Harry sat across from one another on her bed, books splayed open around them. Each had their wands out, Hermione having been assured that No. 12 Grimmauld had enough shielding spells that no one would detect her working magic.

"I've been experimenting with intent," Harry said. "After reading all of the Charms' theory books Snape gave me, I can sort of… reverse what spells are supposed to do. But I'm having trouble with a few illusion ones."

Hermione frowned. "Let me see what you're doing."

Obligingly, Harry cast a glamour on his eyes; they turned a colourless grey. "See, the incantation I used should have turned my eyes black. I can reverse the intent of the spell if I reverse the wand movements – and the wand movements are small enough that only someone like Flitwick would notice that I'm doing it – but it takes too much thinking to do in the middle of battle." He grinned slightly. "I am, however, having fun testing it out on Snape."

She giggled. "You're a brat, Harry." Cocking her head sideways, she said, "And really, those eyes of yours are creeping me out. They make you look like a Malfoy."

Harry pulled a horrified face and hurriedly took off the glamour. "Yech. Don't _say_ things like that, Hermione!" He took a deep breath. "But, anyways, the range of reversals are pretty limited. It would be better if I could manage to completely alter the affects of the spell, instead of just reversing them. I was thinking I could manage if I changed around the incantation a bit as well as the wand movements – y'know, stress one syllable over another, stuff like that."

"Well, yes, Harry," Hermione said. She worried at her bottom lip, lost in thought. "That's true, but if you tweak it _this_ way off of the old spell, then what you're really doing isn't reversing the charm, but creating a new one… and there's a reason why it takes a while for new charms to become a part of common usage. New charms have to be extensively tested by the Ministry to ensure that they don't cause potential harm, that they're ethical, and that the backlash of the magic won't burn out the caster."

"Backlash?" Harry leaned forward, interest glinting off of his glasses. "What's backlash?"

She threw him an exasperated look and leaned backward, resting on her elbows. "Honestly, Harry, you've not learned anything in the last five years of Charms classes, I see." At his pleading glance, she relented with a sigh and began to explain. "Backlash – some charms, when cast, have a rebound effect on the caster. Actually, all magic has a rebound effect; all magic eats energy. Why do you think we get such large meals at Hogwarts throughout the year? We need all the calories we can get to keep our magic fueled. It's just that some spells eat more energy than others.

"There are a few spells out there that, if you were to cast them, you'd die instantly from starvation. They require that much energy. They're the ones that have been lost to obscurity, since most wizards and witches are unwilling to spend their lives to extinguish a single candle, or pick up a rock."

"Huh? What's this about putting out a candle or picking up a rock? How would that kill you?"

Hermione sighed and closed her eyes. "Like I just said – starvation, because the power behind these particular spells is just too much. It's massive overkill. Those two are still known about because they're studied in the Advanced Ancient Runes class, and in a few independent Charms studies. On the surface they're very simple spells. But if you look at the words behind them – and I'm not going to tell you what they are, partly because I can't pronounce them, and partly because I don't want you experimenting – then they're the most complex spells you'll ever see.

"The one for putting out a candle, for example. It's not just summoning a bit of wind to blow out the flame; it's willing the flame to not be anymore, to just stop existing… and fire is one of the basic elements, so to pit your magic against it is a monumental act of stupidity. Over the years, wizards have adapted the spell to not be so draining - its most famous variant is the Killing Curse."

"Avada Kedavra?" Harry said, frowning. "You mean, Avada Kedavra is weaker than this spell?"

"Yes," Hermione nodded. "For one, it focuses itself on the specific life force and not on the physical being to stop existing. That's why there's never been a physical explanation for why it succeeds in killing its victims. By focusing on only one aspect of being, the magical drain of Avada Kedavra is lessened; and with practice, wizards and witches can learn to handle the damage done to them by casting the spell and build a tolerance. It's a lot like the way we're taught with simple spells like 'Wingardium Leviosa' in First year, and then work our way up to ones like 'Accio'. We're capable of casting the Accio while we're in First year too, but in doing so, we'd knock ourselves out for around a week because we haven't grown used to the magical drain yet."

"Huh." Harry frowned. He flopped onto his chest and played with a random book absentmindedly. Hermione didn't interrupt him, knowing he was about to come out with one of his intuitively deep thoughts. "So, why can't we build up a tolerance to the level that we can cast that spell – y'know, the one for putting out a candle."

Hermione blinked. "Well…" she considered thoughtfully, "I suppose it's possible that you _could_. But you'd have to cast a lot of higher level spells consecutively for a long time… and you'd have to be enormously talented… and, well, I'm not sure that anyone under the age of a hundred could manage it since you'd have to have been doing magic for a _long_ time…"

"But theoretically," Harry pressed, "it's possible, right?"

"Yes," she nodded. "It's possible."

For all that she'd known Harry since they'd been eleven, Hermione didn't know quite what to make of the smile he sent her way – except that if she hadn't been such good friends with him, she might have been slightly, subtly frightened.

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Granger was finally leaving.

Snape heaved a sigh of relief. It was hard enough having one Gryffindor around; two was pushing his limits. He stood by the sidelines as they hugged goodbye, and cleared his throat to hurry their farewells. It was as Granger was about to step into the fireplace that Potter hurriedly pushed a wrapped bundle into her hands, leaning forward and whispering into her ear. Try as he might, Snape could only hear, "…mirror, Sirius…"; and then Granger was nodding, looking suddenly tearful, and stepping backward into green fire, saying, "The Leaky Cauldron," as she went.

And then, once again, it was only Snape and Potter. Merlin help them.

* * *

Oh wow. This has been a long gap in updating - I'm so sorry! There are a couple of reasons for the long wait (I'm not sure if you want to hear my excuses) butthey mainly comprise of the continuing misadventures of my monitor (I've had to send it in for repairs, and am currently still using the Loaner), a lack of time due to math homework, and a loss of general momentum to the story. I've had to replot certain aspects of it, but no worries! I have my ideas firmly in hand now. I know that this chapter was mainly boring and doesn't really go indepth with Snape and Harry's lessons, but I never meant for the 'fic to be a Snape-mentors-Harry one and I'm sorry if that's what you expected. What this chapter is is set up for the rest of the 'fic, and for the possible sequel as well. I _hate_ writing set-ups... but, well, they have to be done. Thank you to everyone for encouraging me and for reading my story!

**Clodia - **Hee, I could get used to being called glorious and wonderful! And all your questions are soon to be answered... or, well, maybe not in this 'fic, but perhaps in a sequel...? And, very well, I suppose I shall pay member dues... Must set a good example, and all that! (Heh. Remus really IS like chocolate...) Oh, and my friend finds you amusing! (Slightly disturbing as well, but she's used to that with me around.)

**logi** - Thank you! I'm sorry this update took so long; future ones will come faster, I promise! (Or at least fervently hope.)

**Strega - **Wow, thanks so much for all your insightful comments! I'm glad I'm on the right track - though I have the feeling that this latest chapter is OOC and not really up to par with the rest of the fic... it's necessary though, to move the story forward. I'm really grateful to you for your analysis of my humor-writing-style. That really cleared up my doubts; and you are SO right about the troubles with writing the way the characters want you to write... it makes some stories inflexible, because the characters are inflexible, and therein lie all the many pretty plot devices that make authors all over breathe easier. Heh, you're a Ravenclaw? I'm like, a Hufflepuff with Ravenclaw leanings (I love books). Please keep reading!

**Em - **Uwahh! Huggle! Sorry, I've been hug-deprived! Okay, I'm good now. Heh, so you also wallow in insanity? I find it a comfortable place to rest. Hm, I'm thinking in HP6, Harry and Snape WILL reconcile, actually; I'm pretty sure that Rowling's setting them up to be mentor-mentoree (is 'mentoree' a word? eh, it is now!) after they get over their various hang-ups about each other. I also can't wait! Heh, if you get the book before me, tell me all the juicy bits, k?

**Mademoiselle nom de plume** - Thank you! I'm sorry this chapter took so long to get out to you!

**blackshift - **I'm sorry! I'm sorry! I'm sorry it took so long to update! Please don't abandon the story!

**Awesome Possum - **Hee, I love Sherlock... I gift him a warehouse full of sunglasses! Ah, I love these reviews... they go beyond awesome! Thank you!

**Howl** - Wow! Always be hungry when you review! That's awesome, it really WAS like a novel! Heh, my friend and I shook our heads in awe, before breaking out in chortles over all the comparisons. I'm sorry this update took so long to get to you, and I know it's not really worth the wait - but the next three chapters will be very awesome if I do say so myself (heh, I'm SO not humble AT ALL). And, well, Harry's not actually crazy; you'll see, I'm planning on having Snape's revelation on Harry's character come in Ch. 8. It'll be so much fun to write! Please keep up with the chortle-inspiring reviews (if you have the time and feel so inclined); they inspire me to write, though perhaps not all that well!

**Giddy With Laughter - **Thanks so much!

**whereowhere-is-my-rabbit** - Sorry this update took so long; and, well, as for your question... trust your instincts! Thanks for your review!

**tweeny-weeny - **Heh, I like making him confuzzled the best too! I'm glad you could get to the rest of the story, and thanks for reviewing!

**fragonknight01 - **I'm so glad you liked the first five chapters! Thanks for reviewing, and I'm sorry this chapter took so long to get out - I hope you still plan on reading the rest!

**Cressida Aliora** - Wow, that does sound like a horrible return! I hate going back to school too; even after a weekend, I feel like dying... well, I hope you feel better now! And I'm sorry that this update took so long... I hope the new chapter cheers you up a little, even if it's not that funny!

**juliedecarson - **Thank you for your comments! I know what you mean about Snape, how he sometimes seems like he should be screaming instead of calming down - but I'm trying to take into account the fact that he'd likely be puzzled by Harry's behaviour towards him and that this might affect his reactions somewhat. I'm trying to keep him in IC, and I'm glad that you agree for the most partwith the way I'm portraying him!

**Memoria in Piscis Crusta** - YOU! Type up the rest of the stories! You only did two, ya slacker! Heh, and it is SO your fault that I'm all bruised and bloody... every day... even on the weekends... and when I try to fight back, you just LAUGH! You're such a... such a... such a YERK! That's right. You're a yerk. Heh. Glad it made you laugh (I wrote the Kreacher part just for you), and the only reason why you're doing so well in English is because I CHEAT FOR YOU! (well, no, I dont actually, but I would if you asked me to!) And hey, so what if I ditched you in Chem? You ditched me in Psych! We're even!


	7. Return of the Werewolf

**Chapter Seven**

"Return of the Werewolf."

The afternoon following Granger's leave-taking found Snape and Potter returning to their old routines.

"Wrong. Wrong. Wrong. Surprisingly correct. Wrong. Wrong." Snape looked up from marking Potter's quiz with a smirk, quill dripping red ink. "You've been remiss in your studies, Mr. Potter."

Potter shrugged lightly, not looking up from the open book before him. Snape frowned at his bait gone un-bitten. He was about to make another attempt to rouse Potter into some kind of confrontation when they were disturbed by the front door banging open, and Remus Lupin staggering through, blood dripping down his pale forehead, propping himself up with a stick held by his right hand, his left leg dragging helplessly behind him. "Harry…" he said faintly with great relief. "Oh, thank God." And then he fainted.

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Snape had done what he could before summoning Dumbledore, but Lupin looked like the freshly exhumed, and Potter looked sick from worry. The boy was hovering over Lupin's frightfully-still body when Dumbledore managed to sweep in. His eyes were bits of pale blue glass, sharp enough to cut. He looked grimly down at Lupin from Potter's side.

"I was afraid something had happened after he failed to get in touch with me this morning," Dumbledore said. "It's a wonder he managed to get himself to Headquarters."

Potter scowled. "You shouldn't have sent him out alone. He's not strong enough." His tone was that of worry, but more tellingly, also of ire. Snape silently gaped behind them – he'd never heard anyone rebuke Albus Dumbledore before.

Dumbledore sighed. "He's a fully trained wizard, Harry. He knew the risks when he took them."

"And," Lupin stirred on the bed, "'He' is also awake."

Snape sneered at the resulting reunion scene between Potter and Lupin, resisting the urge to sick up in response the saccharine nature of their greetings. Honestly, he'd thought only Hufflepuffs could attain that level of sappiness. When they'd finally ceased gushing over one another, Dumbledore shooed Potter from the room quite firmly, saying that he needed to debrief Lupin. Snape allowed himself a brief, self-satisfied smirk before he realized that he, too, was being ushered outside. He gaped at the door that had closed in his face for a few seconds before coming aware that Potter was smirking at him impertinently.

He scowled at the brat and stalked off to the kitchen to organize some form of tea. He didn't see Potter's vaguely relieved expression as the teen dashed off to the upper levels of the house – and if he had, he'd no doubt have followed from spite and curiousity.

Harry had in fact gone up into the room he sometimes slept in, where he kept all his stuff. He knelt under the somewhat musty bed and withdrew from beneath it a wrapped bundle. Opening it, he was momentarily blinded by light glinting off of the mirror shards – Sirius' mirror shards that Harry had so thoughtlessly shattered earlier that year. He had cast a Reparo on it a few weeks ago, desperate to have at least one thing left over from his godfather; and had gone on to again try to contact Sirius from beyond the Veil. The second attempt had been any better than the first, and again in a fit of rage, Harry had flung the mirror down… only this time, it had broken into three distinct pieces.

And Harry had had an idea.

It had taken him a while to find all the charms, but the mirror pieces were ready to receive them having been spelled already; and though it was a bit tricky to create a three-way communication system rather than the standard two-way, the extra effort was worth it when Harry thought about being able to talk to his friends, no matter where they were.

He'd already given Hermione her shard, knowing that she knew its significance. Ron would have to get his when they could meet in person. Harry wasn't entrusting the shard to any owl, not even Hedwig; maybe he was being paranoid, but they really _were_ out to get him, so he felt justified.

Leaning over one shard's surface, he whispered, "Hermione Granger," and waited for her face to appear.

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Neither he nor Potter were privy to whatever passed between Lupin and Dumbledore that afternoon; Snape growled inaudibly and reassured himself that he didn't want to know anything that had to do with werewolves. Still, curiousity bit at him with vicious little teeth – much like the snake's fangs that his House was so enamoured of, and he found himself in a rather worse than usual temper.

This was not helped when Dumbledore cheerfully informed him, just as he was leaving, that Lupin would be recuperating at No. 12 Grimmauld.

"But-" Snape protested, trying to rally a coherent argument from an altogether incoherent mind, "But wouldn't St. Mungo's be best? Or even Hogwarts, it has the Hospital Wing—" He didn't want to share quarters with Lupin for any amount of time.

Dumbledore shook his head. "I am sorry, dear boy, but what Remus needs now is rest more than magical healing. He has also expressed a wish to stay close to Harry for the time being. I'm sure that you wouldn't begrudge either of them the other's company."

Snape scowled blackly. "Well, then, why can't I leave? You now have a replacement babysitter for Potter. I'm no longer necessary."

"Ah, but you are," Dumbledore tapped his finger to his nose knowingly. "Harry, for all that he cares for Remus, would have difficulty ensuring that all of Remus' physical needs were met. And Remus, for all that he would give his life for Harry, is hardly in any state to act as a protective figure."

"Oh, lovely. Instead of just the one charge, now I have two," Snape snorted and threw his hands in the air.

Dumbledore beamed. "So glad you see it my way," and stepped into the fireplace behind him, flooing back to Hogsmeade.

"As if there were any other way, you barmy old man," Snape muttered and beat a hasty retreat to his rooms.

Over the course of the following days, he found himself in the dubious position of authority above the infamous Boy-Who-Lived and a werewolf. He couldn't enjoy the power to its utmost because whenever he attempted to boss either around, Lupin would turn ghastly pale and plead exhaustion, and Potter would twitter around him like an over-excited turkey with its head cut off. It seemed that with only this tenuous link the past left, Potter was more determined than ever to keep it intact.

Snape was contented to leave Lupin and Potter alone. He supped with them occasionally, but Lupin was often too weak to make his way down to the kitchen, and Potter took meals with the wolf no matter where they were. Snape knew that he really should be getting back to teaching the dunderheaded Gryffindor fool, but couldn't fault himself for skiving off. He consoled himself with the thought that all the tutoring in the world wouldn't help the little ingrate anyway – they were doomed to be failed by an incompetent saviour and cast down at the Dark Lord's strangely scaly feet, and while Snape could honestly say that he had tried, he wasn't going to exhaust himself. That was the providence of fools.

With Potter so obviously useless, he had to keep his strength up. When it came down to it, he'd make sure that he – and as many others as he could salvage, he supposed when he was feeling kindly – would survive. He was Slytherin.

Yet still, there were times when Snape felt as if he were missing something… something utterly vital. Passing Potter in the hallways and catching a brief glimpse of something other than the blatant, cloying obedience the brat had made a point of to show him – seeing green eyes glare at him from behind thick lenses before glancing aside and hiding their angry light; and on the rare random drills he now engaged Potter in to at least try to keep the child's hexing skills up to par, when a particularly-gone-wrong spell left Potter looking triumphant, pleased, rather than demoralized.

And how the boy reacted to Lupin too, solicitous as a priest, always on hand to serve and assist in any remote way possible. Snape knew that Potter felt close to Lupin, but honestly – to make himself a slave? He was hardly ever from Lupin's side, and when he was, it was only to sleep.

Severus Snape was quickly finding Harry Potter a mystery. Not a particularly intriguing one, nor one worthy of his interest… but he'd be damned if he'd let a Potter – of any generation – get the better of him, and he resolved to keep a closer eye on the brat.

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"How's Professor Lupin doing then?" Hermione asked. She held her shard at angle away from her face, so that Harry could see her expression from a severe slant. It gave him an odd perspective.

"Better," he replied. "He's finding it easier to move around." Harry scowled. "He still won't tell me how he got so banged up, but I reckon it has something to do with that mission he was sent on…" Rapidly changing the subject, he asked, "So, have you managed to get the new books yet?"

Harry kept his shard beneath him and looked down at it, propped up on his elbows, lying on his stomach. He was perhaps unaware of how this particular angle made his features especially distinct and defined. Hermione had almost gasped the first time she'd seen him through the mirror, quietly admiring how her childhood friend was maturing.

She nodded affirmatively. "Yes, and they've been fascinating so far. I picked up a few extras too – a history of Magi, such as Animagi and Metamorphmagi, and a few supplementary Herbology texts. Neville recommended them." She grinned wrly. "I've rather enough DADA, Charms, and Transfigurations books to rival Hogwarts' library by now, I think. It's time to expand my collection in other directions."

Harry chuckled. "Bookworm," he softly accused. He would hardly admit how much his nightly conversations with Hermione had helped stave off the loneliness. The only thing that could make it better would be if Ron were also able to talk with them. Oh, he loved hanging around Remus- but Remus wasn't his best friends, and though he felt… _secure_… with the ex-Professor, it was his friends who he'd given pieces of himself all these years. They had become extensions of one another by now, solidly supporting each other, unflinching when faced with whatever the world had to throw at them. Harry glanced at the candle he'd lit a while ago, and saw that it was burnt down to half-size. "We've been talking a while. I'd better go."

Hermione smiled sweetly. "G'night, Harry."

"Night, Hermione."

Harry watched wistfully as her face wobbled slowly from view, and the mirror's surface smoothed to reflect his image. He tucked the shard safely beneath his pillow and settled down to sleep. It seemed that he had only just closed his eyes when he was being shaken awake, still screaming; and he thought, 'Fuck. Forgot the silencing charms.'

* * *

Ahhh... A speedy update to make up for the previous long wait. Again, many apologies for that! And currently, I am much sleep-deprived and slightly depressed. I just got my first semi-flame review... I call it 'semi' because it contained constructive criticism and was coached in polite language; but it still stated that I had lost a reader because of my writing style. Perhaps I'm overly sensitive (actually, I _know_ I am), but that's still a hard statement to take. I'd rather someone warn me of a writing quirk of mine they find annoying before actually giving up on me. Ah well, I shall move onwards and upwards! (Sorry if this sounded like whining. I'm honestly just slightly depressed, that's all. I welcome any and all comments no matter what they contain, be it encouragement, criticism, or flame.)

**Howl** - Ah, Howl, the awesomeness that is your review will forever leave me shaking my head in awe. You manage to sneak in at least a half a dozen literary references before I can even blink. It's astounding, really; and very very cool. I'm so glad you like Ch.6! I was hoping that while it didn't contain action, it would still be entertaining in one form or another. And thanks for approving of my Hermione! I suppose I identify most with her out of all the characters, for I too am a bushy-haired know-it-all (my old nick-name was 'Walking Dictionary'. Oh the shame!). Thanks so much for not pressuring for updates. It's so refreshing to get that amongst all the others clamoring with pleas of 'update ASAP!'. It's a great relief not to have that kind of obligation to pressure-write, and when the pressure is lifted from me, I tend to write more. Heh, I guess that means your assurances have led directly to this speedy update! I declare you now my muse! (If you don't mind accepting the position...)

**blackshift** - Well, the funny's not really going to be back in this fic for a while... really, it's going more for revelations and drama, a bit of action, and a lot of angst. Perhaps a sprinkling of hope. I'm truly sorry about that, if you were expecting to get back to the humour... perhaps in the sequel, which I plan to write soon, you'll find more of what you like. But thanks so much for your support!

**duj** - Thank you! I hope you continue to be thought-provoked by ensuing chapters/sequels.

**tweeny-weeny** - No! Most definitely not! And hey, we have something in common - my friend, too, is slightly homicidal when in my presence. It gets to be quite painful... I hope you like this latest chapter!

**me - **Well, I don't know why I'm responding to this since you've already admitted to ceasing in reading my story and so will likely never read this... But yes, thanks for your criticism - I'm not sure that I'd necessarily take your advice had you given it earlier in the chapters when it would have made the most difference, but it was welcome all the same and I sincerely hope you find less irritating stories to read.

**Strega - **Thank you! I strive for the unexpected. I was hoping that little bit of Harry's scheming would get a laugh out of someone out there... I'm glad you found the theoretical discussion interesting. I was afraid it would slow the story down too much, but I wanted a good scene between Harry&Hermione in, and I needed talk about tolerance, etc., to set the stage for the sequel. Heh, so you're Ravenclaw through and through, eh? Thoroughly wonderful; I've always seen Ravenclaws as in love with learning and knowledge, and therefore the wisest of all the Houses (except for Hufflepuff. We're under-rated, but we are indeed powerful!). As for myself, yeah, I'm powerfully loyal. It's my defining trait; as is my laziness. Heh. I'm practically Slytherin in my propensity to get others to do my work for me, or slither out of it altogether; and I have the Gryffindor connection through my busy Hermione-hair. Seriously. It's almost a 'fro.

**Coriel** - Thanks so much for your encouragement! And hm, I'd never even thought of having that scene in between Snape and Hermione. D'oh! It would have been truly perfect, too! Ah well, another fic, perhaps. I hope you enjoy this latest chapter as well!


	8. Like Christmas, Everyone's Getting Somet...

**Chapter Eight **(dedicated to Howl, who has been so patiently waiting)

"Remus Gets Worried, Harry Gets Hysterical, And Snape Gets A Clue."

It was Remus' face, panicked and wild, staring down at him; his voice asking desperately, "Harry, are you all right?"

The whole world seemed rather surreal. Harry's room was dimmed and filled with shadows, slivers of light drifting in through the flung open door, and his sudden wakening had jolted him to a half-upright position. Bedclothes strewn about him, he searched wildly for his glasses, all the while nodding abstractly. "Yes, yes, sorry for waking you." He finally found them folded up on the rickety bed-side table and slid them onto his nose with a satisfied sigh – only to have Remus' worried expression come clearly into view. It occurred to him that his pseudo-guardian would want to know, in some vague way at least, just why he'd woken up screaming. "Er…"

Remus sat on the bed next to Harry. He'd run to get to Harry, and his injuries were obviously paying him back for the movement. His eyes were soft and concerned when he asked, tentatively, "It wasn't Voldemort, was it?"

Harry shook his head immediately. "No, nothing like that, I promise. I'd have told you and Dumbledore right away if it had been."

"Sirius then?" Remus questioned gently. "Were you remembering him?" When Harry didn't answer, Remus continued. "I think about him too. It's okay to talk about him with me Harry. We both need to remember him – we need to remember the kind of man he was, and how much he meant to us." Harry still didn't speak. His eyes were clenched closed, and he drew his knees to his chest and wrapped skinny arms about them. "Harry? You should talk about this. Please? Please, tell me what's wrong."

For a moment that strung tight between the man and the boy, it seemed as if Harry would not speak. His mouth was a thin line held taut and his face pale. "I-" he began to say, then bit back the word. He looked in physical pain, wound tightly; tension building. "I _can't_," he finally said. "I can't tell you. Please don't make me tell you."

"It's okay," Remus said. "It's okay, whatever you say, it'll be okay."

Harry's expression twisted. He began to rock back and forth slightly, shoulders drawn in to his body. "I- I-" he sucked in a deep, shallow breath. Then suddenly, as if galvanized by pain, Harry gasped, "I have dreams," clinging tight to his knees. "Every night, I have dreams, and they _hurt_. And I wake up screaming or worse because they're always the same - they're always, always the same - and I _miss _him-"

Remus swallowed the ache that had risen to his throat and moved to gather Harry in his arms. Harry flinched away and Remus recoiled as if struck, hurt by the rejection; and then, suddenly, Harry had launched himself at Remus and was wrapping him up in desperate arms, his hot face buried in Remus' chest.

From the doorway, Snape slid backwards into shadows. His palms were slick with sweat; his fingers uncontrollably trembled. He left noiselessly for the privacy of his room, and left the werewolf and the boy to their own.

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They had company for breakfast in the form of Nymphadora Tonks, clumsy Auror extraordinaire. She beamed fondly at both Harry and Remus, and made faces at Snape whenever she presumed him unaware. She didn't appear to notice, or perhaps just glossed over, Harry and Remus' tired eyes and exhausted faces, instead babbling on about how with the summer coming to a close, most of the 'extracurricular' activities of Order members had also finally been done with.

She herself had just returned from a particularly harrowing mission to Egypt; further members would be trickling into Headquarters throughout the following week, where they could safely and without suspicion contact Dumbledore.

Snape held himself apart from the conversation. He didn't like being a part of groups, even if they were as small as three, nor was he ever particularly welcome – save for when the Headmaster happened to also be present. Also, he felt… uncomfortable around Potter. He was seldom around the grieving and for all his Legilimency skills, hadn't caught on to the depth of the boy's pain, or even that he was in pain at all.

Normally he would have pressed advantage at so obvious a wound to salt; but here, in this house that still held imprints of Black's presence, he was disconcerted and off-balance… and Lupin managed to glare at him rather impressively whenever Potter's back was turned, as if to warn with eyes alone, 'Do not go near this boy.' If Snape didn't keep a rather close track on the lunar cycles, he would've thought they were close to a full moon for all the feral energy Lupin managed to exude.

Tonks left them soon enough, and Potter helped Lupin back up to his rooms. Snape sneered at their retreating backs – let them have one another, seeing as no one else would be suicidal enough to go near to either a known werewolf or the biggest walking target of Great Britain. 'Except,' a niggling voice whispered in Snape's mind, 'that both have whole families – or at least the Weasleys, not that that's saying much – willing to take them in.'

It wouldn't do to sneer at oneself, no matter the fact that it was likely physically impossible. Snape settled for an exasperated sigh and set the stove for more tea. Introspection was best left for philosophers and madmen.

He was readying himself for yet another morning of reading potions texts in the effort of finding new innovations he could incorporate into his own brews when the Hogwarts' owl flew in and dropped a letter by his lightly steaming cup. Ah, his official class list for the new school term With a lightly anticipatory air, Snape opened the letter whilst absentmindedly waving the owl to the kitchen where it could be tended to by that over-zealous House Elf.

The parchment unfolded itself slowly as Snape scanned the class lists. Seventh year had lost five students, unsurprising given the rigors of the course. He had retained all his Slytherins and the Ravenclaws; most satisfying was that of the five drop-outs, four were Gryffindor. Snape's lip curled. He couldn't stand the reckless twits – their brainless antics had to be forever watched, and it was a seldom Gryffindor who realized that it would _not_, in fact, be funny to mix and match random ingredients on the off chance that there might be a resulting explosion – that in doing so, he endangered his classmates, his teacher, _himself_…

He moved on to the Sixth year lists. And stopped cold.

Harry Potter.

Harry bloody Potter.

There was no chance in hell that Snape would ever let that moron into his lab again, not after the glaring incompetence of last year, not with Potter's undoubtedly poor mark on his Potions OWL. No. Bloody. Way.

Oh, he and Dumbledore were going to have _words_.

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Except that night, it wasn't Dumbledore who came visiting: it was Alastor Moody, thumping tiredly through the front door and demanding first off a strong, hot cup of tea.

It was late, so Lupin and Potter were nowhere to be seen, thus Snape had the dubious honour of sitting up and listening to Mad-Eye gripe and groan about idiots in the Ministry. Normally he'd have been whole-heartedly agreeing with Moody, but tonight was in a black mood all his own over the lack of communication with Dumbledore, despite repeated owls and fire-calls. Dammit, Albus _had_ to know that Snape wanted to talk to him – the manipulative wizard was biding his time, plotting ways to get Snape to acquiesce quietly to letting Potter into his classroom. Dumbledore was so sly, he was practically _Slytherin_.

Which Snape never thought he'd be saying as if it were an insult.

Moody had finally calmed enough to not send his magical eye spinning furiously, and polished off his cup with great relish. "So, Potter got here all right?" At Snape's snort, he grinned. "Always did like that one. Had fun threatening those Muggles he lives with – should've seen the colours they turned, especially that-"

Whatever Moody was about to say was cut off by Lupin stumbling into the kitchen, bleary-eyed. He headed straight for the teapot that Dobby had so helpfully left out for all of them to share in and poured himself a generous cup. It wasn't until after his third swallow that he looked up and nodded a hello at Moody. He asked Snape, "Have you seen Harry? I checked his room, but he wasn't in there."

Snape sneered. "I do not dog the boy's foot-steps, Lupin. Despite misconceptions, I am not the idiot's babysitter – _you_ lost him, _you_ find him."

Lupin's eyes narrowed. "I'll thank you not to insult Harry, Severus." He drained the last of his cup, set it down firmly, and stumbled back the way he came. A few moments later, they heard his faint voice speaking with another's: Dumbledore; and then retreating footsteps up the stairs.

Dumbledore entered the room not long after, and twinkled tiredly in Snape and Moody's general direction. "Ah, you're both still up I see. Wonderful, wonderful."

Snape did not question what brought the Headmaster to Headquarters so late at night. It obviously had something to do with Moody's mission, and so he didn't interrupt their conversation until it was clear that they were over and done with – he sulked on the sidelines, scowling ferociously, but he did not interrupt.

When Moody too had departed for one of the many guest rooms, and it was just Snape and Dumbledore left, Snape let his ire loose.

"I do not know what exactly you are hoping to gain by having Potter prematurely _die_, but I can assure you that you will not be enabling his death through _me_-"

Dumbledore cut him off mildly. "What makes you predict Harry's death, Severus?"

"His inclusion in my class, which he will undoubtedly manage to blow up within _seconds of his first day_!"

"Well." Dumbledore blinked slowly, tiredly, and stirred his tea carelessly with his wand. "I don't know quite why you are convinced that Harry will fail so spectacularly. He did, after all, receive an 'O' on his OWLs."

There was a dangerously still silence. Then, tightly, Snape said, "Do not lie to me, Albus."

Dumbledore had the gall to look surprised. "I, lie? Surely you have more faith in me than that, dear boy. No," he leaned forward earnestly, "I speak the truth. Harry Potter received an 'O' on his Potions OWL – both the practical and the written examinations. Just barely, mind you, but still, it was quite an achievement."

There was a faint roaring sound in Snape's ears, as if the world were toppling around him. 'But – but –' a tiny voice sputtered in his head. 'The letter. The damned blasted letter-!'

And Snape was filled with the sick sensation of knowing that somehow, in some way, Potter had managed to get the best of him. Yet again.

* * *

Woo! Another chapter done! I've decided I need to go another two chapters to finish this 'fic - sorry that my speculation on having it done by Ch.9 was erroneous, but I want to keep my pacing roughly the same, and there's a fair bit of action next chapter, meaning that Ch.10 is the denouement so to say. Thanks to everyone for their encouragement over my whining last time!

**Coriel** - Thank you! I hope this chapter also meets your approval! Parts of it seemed a bit rushed, but oh well!

**blackshift - **Sorry about the loss of Snape-Harry interaction lately; but Ch. 10 is chock full of it, so if you can hang on til then, it'll all be worth it, I promise!

**Em** - Hi::huggles: Well, now you know who it was that woke Harry! Hm, I really love the idea of using the mirror shard as a teen-angst plot device, and so shall try to work it in with the sequel! Heh, I'm stealing your ideas - sorry! I'll credit you, or not use the idea at all if it discomfits you. I'd've used it in this chapter as well if I hadn't already plotted it all out... :sigh:... I'm so glad you like this story - you always have cool things to say, and give me awesome ideas (plus hugs!), and I'm just really happy I'm writing for someone like you! (...who won't be scared away by weird author rambles...)

**dmweasley** - Thank you! I like the sly!Harry as well, and as for the whole inner conflict over his friends... you'll see what's going through his head later on. It's rather hard to show his inner thoughts all the time because of the omniscient perspective this story adopts, which keeps viewpoints hopping. I hope you don't mind the minor ambiguities, but if you feel that they leave too big of plot-holes, please don't hesitate to let me know!

**Cap'n Dru Shaddix - **Glad to be of service!

**tweeny-weeny** - No::gasps in horror: It can't be! That's so horrible, you poor dear! Erg, can be a cow sometimes, don't you agree? I hope you get your story back up here soon! (... or get it back up somewhere that's not quite so censored. Arg, makes me mad sometimes!) And I quite sympathise over homicidal friends - though I've the feeling reincarnation would be less painful than enduring stoically the beatings... Oh, the very many beatings...

**dido** - Oh! Wonderful review! Thank you _so_ much. I'm glad you enjoy it, and thanks for the ego boost! I need it, what with low self-esteem, etc., and I hope this update meets to the rest of the story's standards.

**Strega -**Ah, sorry, but it wasn't Snape that woke Harry! I'm deeply apologetic for whatever consternation this may have caused! But I hope you'll be happy with the Lupin/Harry interaction I managed to sneak in there - and I hope you don't find the scene slightly stilted. I had written parts of it out previously, and was trying to incorporate those parts into the flow of this chapter. I hope I succeeded, but I'm not quite sure if I managed to make it all believable or not... :sigh: I mean, did it seem weird to you that Harry didn't at first want to reveal what was upsetting him? And that then he broke down? ...Huh. I'm a bit worried about that bit. Aside from that, yes, you're right, Snape's finally cluing in! He's not dumb, he just expects the worst from Harry, so of course that's all he sees for the longest time. And now... the truth is coming to light! On a side note, I, too, have been woefully hindered in the past by a conscience. Horrible thing. Without it, this lazy Huffle with scholastic leanings and Hermione-esque hair may have made the quintessential Slytherin! (I am rather manipulative, after all.) Thanks so much for your thoughtful review!

**Mebear** - Hee! I'm glad you liked the roof of the house, but that part isn't quite what it seems... you'll see what I mean by Ch.10, promise! Until then, please keep reading!

**AwesomePossum** - Ah, where would Sherlock be without his Watson? (Prolly tripping over his feet and giggling all the while) Thank you once again for a snortle-inspiring review! And, hm, mayhap I should gift Watson with a good bottle of butterbeer as a reward for having to deal with such a goofball? Oh, who am I kidding... he deserves the firewhiskey, at least!

**Howl - **Did ya notice? Did ya notice? This chapteris all for you. I hope you liked it, my splendiferous muse! And, wow, I LOVE Dogma! I just about died at the end when God turned out to be Alanis Morisette, one of my fave. singers! And Jay and Silent Bob were hilarious, as was the talented Linda Fiorentino, and thewonderful Alan Rickman... :sigh: I was so not surprised when he was the Voice. Because he has that _voice_, y'know what I'm saying? But, oh, you don't like Salma Hayek? I've always been enamoured of her movies, actually, and I thought she made a wonderful Serendipity... and I really liked Bartleby and Loki... ah, indeed, it's a wonderful movie! Thinking back on it makes me smile... Oh, and I'm sorry about the semi-cliffhanger, promise not to do it again! (...this 'fic at least...)

**laer** - Thanks so much! Ah, I'm getting a swelled head from all the praise... Oh, and, eh. I'm not one for capital letters either, usually. I'm glad you've enjoyed the story so far, and I hope it continues to entertain!

**Clodia** - Yup! There'll be a sequel! I've decided! But first I want to get away from this overall plot line a bit and immerse myself in another story... I hope you won't mind the wait! And thanks for the backing-up-of-my-writing-style. It means a lot coming from you. Oh, yes, I believe we should all pity Snape, at least a bit. But fear not! He gets his own back. And yes, Remus will be all right - well, at least until the sequel. Then, all bets are off::wild cackle: Oh, and don't worry about the amusing&disturbing thing... both me and my friend fit under the same category, so you've good company! Thanks a lot for your continuing support. It's quite bolstering and warming, and encourages me to go on.


	9. Harry Through the Looking Glass

**Chapter Nine**

"Harry Through The Looking Glass."

Someone was whispering.

Hermione was whispering.

…. Wait. What?

Harry woke up with his best friend's voice in his ear, muffled through the pillow. His mind was still fuzzed from sleep, but he was quick enough to fling the pillow away and stare down into Hermione's wide eyes, staring up at him through the mirror shard.

"Harry, thank God," she said. She glanced over her shoulder. "Listen, get Dumbledore or someone, _now_. I think Death Eaters are in my house."

Harry paled. There was no time for questions, yet still they rose to his lips; he thrust them down. "All right," he nodded jerkily, and picked the shard up. He was scrambling off the bed when a loud 'thud' came through the shard. Looking down, he saw Hermione's face drawn and pinched, heard her whispered, "Oh… oh no."

Then a voice, low and malicious, saying, "Crucio."

Then Hermione, screaming.

Then blood.

She must have been clenching the shard tightly in her hands for her blood to have splattered across its surface the way it did, but Harry was beyond thinking rationally; beyond thinking at all. There was no voice in his head saying, 'Get Dumbledore, now, get him NOW.' There was just overwhelming dread and the sensation of his heart being torn in two. His hands gripped the jagged edges of his shard piece and he bellowed, "HERMIONE!" as he felt the sides bite through his palms, and his own blood splash across; and there was a bright light; and a sharp sound; and he was being pulled – pulled _through_….

He landed on hands and knees over top of Hermione's thrashing body, in time to hear the Death Eater give a startled oath. Before he could wonder what was going on – how he'd managed to travel through a mirror, of all things – Harry had launched himself at the Death Eater. In his unthinking protective rage he instinctively recognized that to save Hermione, he'd have to take out the Death Eater.

It was nightmarish, the feel of the Death Eater grappling against him with bony fingers, the sound of Hermione screaming in the background. Feverish and intense, Harry fought like the possessed. And he _was_ possessed, infuriated; raging and completely terrified. This lent him strength enough to force the Death Eater to his knees and grasp his wand, then snap it like a twig.

Harry felt the magical backlash that came from that simple act slam into him. It was not a light thing to destroy an artifact of power, which all wands were; and the force of it knocked him backwards dumbly. The Death Eater he'd just incapacitated was worse off, limp and trembling beneath his black robes.

Mercifully, Hermione had stopped screaming.

Gathering his wits rapidly, Harry cast a quick, "Petrificus Totalus," on the Death Eater before dragging himself tiredly to Hermione's side. She was pale and contorted but still alive, even if still in pain. She'd passed out after the curse was lifted and it hurt Harry, physically, to see her curled about her middle and her lips colourless and bitten clear through.

Downstairs – he presumed downstairs, though he didn't know the set-up for Hermione's house – came the sound of footsteps thumping about. A boisterous voice bellowed, "Having fun up there? Did the mudblood pass out on you? Feh, they usually can't stand up to much pain." Harry breath quickened. "Oi! Ask the bitch when she wakes where 'er parents are at. Can't find 'em anywhere." Harry dragged Hermione behind what was presumably her bed, out of the line-of-sight of the doorway. Acting quickly, he did the same for the Stunned Death Eater; then he paused, found a suitable place to crouch in shadows, and readied his wand. Adrenaline was pumping through him like electricity through his veins.

Footsteps came up the stairs, and that same hateful voice cajoled, "Hey, answer me already! I know you're enjoying yourself, but if there's no one else about to torture, you're going to have to share." Harry resisted the urge to sick up at the anticipation he could hear in the Death Eater's voice. The footsteps came closer to the door, echoing down the hall. Harry tensed.

The whole world seemed to slow and hum and sharpen to a focused point when the second Death Eater appeared in the partially open door. Like a coil unwinding, Harry's wand arm sprang outwards and he called out his second "Petrificus Totalus" for the night. The Death Eater had no chance against the element of surprise and keeled over satisfactorily.

Harry breathed out shakily. "God," he whispered. His knees and hands were uncontrollably trembling. He couldn't make himself stand, so he crawled to the still wizard and dragged him to join his cohort. He looked about in the darkness for something to bind the two of them with, but could find no convenient pieces of rope. He hastily transfigured Hermione's sheets to cord, mentally apologizing to her, and efficiently tied the Death Eaters' hands and legs together. Neither'd be able to move past a few feet, and then only by rolling.

He was crawling back to Hermione when he heard the low chuckle. He knew instinctively that he was too slow, that he wasn't going to be fast enough as his head whipped to the doorway. There had been a third Death Eater.

The third Death Eater had his wand pointed to him. He said, "Crucio."

Harry managed a brief, grateful thought: "Thank God Hermione's hidden back there." Then the world… exploded.

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The very air was screaming from broken wards, and Snape had never seen Dumbledore look so surprised.

"Harry," the old man said faintly. "He's left the house."

It was early, early morning and the two wizards were only still awake because they'd spent the night through talking. With eyes ringed black from exhaustion, Snape swore. "Idiot boy!"

Lupin skidded into the room with wild eyes. "Harry-" he gasped. Such quick movement was not good for the healing werewolf; Snape watched impassively as almost-healed wounds tore open from the stress of moving too fast and blood leached through bandages. "He's not- he's not-"

"I know," Dumbledore said gently. He frowned. "Give me a moment. I must search for him." His eyes closed as he quietly incanted. Snape meanwhile motioned for Lupin to sit.

"I doubt you wish to die while precious Potter still needs saving," he said. "As such, you might want to stop bleeding all over the place."

Lupin ignored him. He stood unsteadily with fever-bright eyes and disheveled hair, anxiously staring at Dumbledore's face. Snape felt unaccountably annoyed. His first thoughtful, genuine gesture – and it was ignored. Certainly the circumstances were extenuating; and he couldn't deny that he felt a bite of worry as well. However, it was more than likely that the Potter brat had simply decided that he would fancy a quick jaunt down Diagon Alley or some such nonsense, and as such was now panicking all those who cared for him (not including Snape, as Snape did not care for him – unless he was contemplating the many potions ingredients that could be harvested from teenage boy).

Honestly, Potter was so _thoughtless_.

Dumbledore's eyes snapped open. "He's at Miss Granger's home," he said. "I will set a port-key."

"I'm coming with you," Lupin said immediately, and Snape curled his lip. _Gryffindors_. Standing there, bleeding, exhausted, and about to fall over – wanting to go on a simple retrieval?

Dumbledore was shaking his head. "No, Remus. It would do Harry no good to see you in such a state." He left unspoken, 'You're no good to _me_ in such a state.' He looked quickly instead to Snape, and Snape nodded at the unspoken request.

Dumbledore's port-key took time to complete as he'd never been to the Grangers' and so had no feel for the destination. He was a skilled enough wizard to be able to manage it, just not easily. Lupin had been watching him with anger in his gaze, but the wizard had enough wolf in him to bow down to whomsoever seemed the alpha of the pack – or maybe enough sense in his head to realize that in case of actual battle, he truly would be useless in his current state; more likely to die or get someone else killed. Snape would've place more money on the wolf though. When did _any_ Gryffindor _ever_ have common sense?

When Dumbledore finally tied the spells to a tea-cup and looked to Snape, Snape breathed a sigh of annoyed relief. It was waiting that he often found most aggravating, when anticipation built crackling like static in the air and he felt the urge to just _move_. He reached out one spindly hand to touch the edge of the rim while Dumbledore kept firm hold of the handle. "Three, two," Dumbledore intoned. "One."

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It felt like he'd been held under the spell forever when suddenly it stopped.

Harry couldn't pin-point the exact second the pain had ceased, only that cool relief radiated through his body when it did and was followed next by violent shivers. He looked up through blurry eyes (his glasses had been knocked off, he remembered vaguely, during the convulsions) to see Dumbledore and Snape in the doorway, standing over the fallen Death Eater. He thought he could make out grim expressions on both their faces.

"Hel-" Harry gasped out rawly. "Help." He breathed raggedly as Dumbledore hurried to his side, crouching down. "Hermione," Harry managed to get out. "Help Hermione." She'd been all he could think of through the pain – her pale face, her tremors, the fear that she'd suffer the same fate as the Longbottoms, that she'd be lost to him forever- he repeated, "Help Hermione."

Dumbledore stroked his forehead calmingly. "Where is she, Harry?"

"There," Harry couldn't manage to point, but he did move his head in the vague direction. "She's… hurt…"

He saw the black shadow-shape of Snape striding to her, picking her limp body up with careful arms. "She's unconscious," Snape said. "She needs medical care."

Dumbledore nodded sharply. "The Death Eater saw your face, Severus," he said. His statement seemed to contain many meanings. Harry was too tired to decipher any but the most obvious, but Snape clearly understood by the way he nodded sharply.

"I shall take care of it."

"More," Harry said. "Over there. Two." He didn't blame them for not seeing either Hermione or the Death Eaters – it was still dark in the room, after all, and they hadn't so much as twitched since Harry had Stunned them.

Dumbledore and Snape looked at him startled, then thoughtful.

"This requires delicacy," Dumbledore said. "They cannot report back, Severus, else Voldemort will know that Harry was present and that you helped him. Even the deaths of three Death Eaters will seem suspicious… unless I am the one known to have caused them." He paused in plotting thought. "You will take Harry to Hogwarts, and I shall take Miss Granger to St. Mungo's. I will return when her condition is stable."

Snape silently handed Hermione over to Dumbledore, and Dumbledore smiled kindly down at Harry. "Don't fret, Harry," he comforted. "She'll be right as rain in no time." Then he Apparated with a 'pop', and there was just Snape and Harry, staring at one another.

"Er," Harry said. "Not dead." He flushed under the searching weight of the Potions Master's stare. "Death Eaters… stunned. Not dead."

Snape corrected him. "Not yet."

* * *

Hehe, I'm starting to think I might need to go to eleven chapters... well, if I can get it all wrapped up in the next chapter, I shall endeavor to do so. I hoped this chapter didn't seem rushed to anyone. Ah, I can feel the end of this 'fic coming near... what a wonderful sensation. Also slightly sad, as well; how strange. Thank you to everyone for reading!

**Molly Morrison** - Well, I'm afraid you don't get to see the full extent of Snape's reactions and realizations until next chapter. Sorry! But I'll update soon, I promise!

**Purple Raveness - **Thank you! Glad to please.

**Coriel** - Your wish is my command - and here's the newest chapter! I hope you like.

**laer** - You guessed it - confrontation is officially coming up in the next chapter!

**Howl - **:embarrassed laugh: Well, y'see, I have this thing about movies that I really like, and 'Dogma' happens to be one of them. Sorry if my fanaticism scared you! Oh, and that chapter was dedicated to you because you'd been waiting for the 'Snape finds out Harry's real OWL scores' for so long. Thanks for the comments on my Dumbledore! I do think the dynamic between him and Snape is fascinating, and I like putting my own spin on it. I wasn't sure exactly how to write Moody, but I kind of felt that around other seniour Order members he'd loosen up and complain a bit; also, there's a clue in his dialogue if you can figure out what it is. Oh, and he knew that Harry'd be at No. 12 because he's privy to a lot of Dumbledore's plans, not because of his magic eye. I hope that clears up any questions! Hee, I love that last quote you threw at me - wonderful Douglas Adams. Thanks for being my muse!

**Strega** - Oh my goodness! You've explained the Remus-Harry dynamic better than I _ever_ could::wild applause: I really do agree with your analysis of their characters, and I'm glad you think that I wrote them in a believable way. I'm not a guy, but I am a teenager, and I know how it feels to be simultaneously pushing someone away while wishing they'd grab you into a tight hug and not let go. I sort of stirred into Harry's character the past of not having any affection or comfort from parental figures to add to his reluctance. I'm so happy you think I've pulled it off! And oh, that would be such a splendiferous scene, if Snape really _did_ come up to Harry and say, "How dare you lie in your personal correspondence!" Now I want to write that. Like, in a spoof or something, because it would be so thoroughly wonderfully _awesome_. Ah! How wonderful. Oh, and you'll see how Snape sort of unravels that it's not exactly just a prank that Harry's playing on him throughout Ch.10, and how he reacts/deals with it. You'll see... there's a lot of subtle stuff that has to be brought to light; let me just say that it deals back to Ch.1 rather heavily as well.Well, either I've just come off as mysterious or brain-scrambled, I don't know which. And if I could get rid of my conscience, forget Europe - I'd take the WORLD! BWAHAHAHAHAHA! (... thanks as always for the intelligent, thoughtful review!)

**Clodia** - This is what I meant by action! You'll get the confrontation scenes between Snape and Harry next chapter, promise! I hope this chapter didn't come completely out of the blue for you - I know it was unexpected to have Hermione attacked, and Harry go to her rescue; and I know that it seems plot-hole-ish to have him jump through the mirror like that, but it'll make sense soon! I swear! I'm really glad that my story's affected you that way, so that you don't want it to end. I've got so many ideas for the sequel! It's not going to be exactly Snape-Harry centric, but they will have lots of interactions. I sort of want to develop other characters as well, however, like Luna, etc. I hope this chapter meets up to the rest of your expectations, and that you'll like the sequel when itcomes!

**ok...** - Heh, no worries, I won't be using any flashbacks at all! And I'm sorry if you really expected this story to go anywhere. It's more written for character interactions and development than anything else, which is why it's listed under 'Humour/General', and not 'Action/Adventure'. Anyways, thank you for your criticism.

**Lisa007** - Heh. Thank you. Just what I was aiming for! I hope this chapter is also... interesting.

**opalish** - Ah! Thanks so much! I adore nice reviews like yours, and I hope this chapter continues to meet your expectations. I'm hoping my characterization doesn't weaken, and I'm really glad you agree with the way I'm manipulating the characters so far. I know this chapter is more on the Action/Drama than Humour, but I hope you'll still enjoy it!

**Mademoiselle nom de plume **- Oh, don't worry! There will be a sequel! Sooner or later... I'm really happy you like how I write the characters. Out of curiousity's sake, which House do you think I favour? I mean, you said that you could 'barely tell', so I was wondering which one I came off as being. I hope this chapter meets your expectations and that you read the sequel when it comes out! Thanks a lot for your review.

**AwesomePossum** - Oh no! I've turned Watson into an alcoholic! Woe, woe, woe is me! Poor abandoned Sherlock... Well, as the instigator of the problem, I shall be the one to endeavor to fix it! No more butterbeer for you, Watson! ...Oh dear. Well, I suppose I shall just have to take Sherlock under my wing until Watson sobers up.

**Em - **You know, I haven't seen PotC for a loooong time! I should watch it tonight... Hm, and as for the Neville debate- it's possible, don't you think? I mean, look at how he does with Herbology... he should have an instinctive feel for plants in the Potions classroom, since a lot of them are used as ingredients... unless what Neville has is a connection with living plants, not dead ones. Huh. That could be a cool plot-bunny-idea. You just hand those out like candy! You're like, my idea-person. Anyways, yes, there shall be a sequel! And I hope you read it! So that I can continue to accumulate plot-bunnies! And perhaps become weaned off of my dependence on the exclamation mark! ... Well, anyhow, yes, I severely appreciate your presence on who else would give me hugs? And I hope that this latest chapter fits in well with the rest of the story and that you like it. :many hugs:


	10. The Melodramatic End

**Chapter Ten**

"The Melodramatic End."

Snape was loathe to leave the stunned Death Eaters for as long a time it would take to bring Potter back to Hogwarts, for providence was so often against him that he just knew they'd manage a miraculous escape and return to the Dark Lord in his absence. He did the best he could under the circumstance, awkwardly shifting Potter to the lower levels of the house – to the living room, if he guessed correctly, as he put the boy down onto an overstuffed armchair – before going back up to… _deal_… with his former associates.

He had never had much practical experience with the killing curse. It had always seemed much more expedient to employ a few elegant, simple potions: dab a few drops to skin and watch the life wither, or open a slack jaw and pour the liquid down. As such, it was with a slightly disoriented feeling that he cast three successive Avada Kedavra's and, feeling vaguely nauseated afterwards, stumbled back down to Potter.

The boy looked at him with wide green eyes that were for once not shuttered or hiding. The difference was stark to Snape, who had gotten used to their scheming glance. "They're dead," Potter stated simply. Snape just as simply nodded.

Grimacing distastefully, he took the boy back up into his arms. He disliked the contact as much as he could feel Potter did judging by his sudden stiffness, but knew it couldn't be helped; it required ill-gotten experience to be able to function after a prolonged bout with the Cruciatus Curse and despite whatever animosity Snape had ever held for Potter, he would not wish such experience on any child.

Focusing on a point far from Potter's face, which stared up at him blankly, Snape Apparated them both with a resounding crack.

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Potter was safely put to bed in the Hospital Wing before Snape managed to stumble his way down to the dungeons. He was energized from adrenaline and thankful for it. He'd need all the alertness he could get to handle brewing the pain relieving potions he was almost positive Potter would need, and possibly Granger as well if St. Mungo's were woefully under stocked.

It was as the potion was gently simmering that Dumbledore's voice called him from the doorway. Snape didn't turn in greeting; he never had. Dumbledore was perhaps the only person Snape would ever trust to present an unguarded back to.

"Miss Granger is safe," Dumbledore said with a relieved sigh. "Her condition is not severe; the Healers say that she is simply unused to pain on the magnitude of the Cruciatus and that she has suffered no long-term damage."

Rather than say anything in response to belie his relief, Snape nodded sharply just the once. "Potter as well seems fine. Poppy is keeping him upstairs. He sleeps."

Dumbledore had come around to face Snape; Snape kept his gaze firmly fixed to the deft motion of his hand stirring the potion. "Severus," Dumbledore said. "I fear I have not been wholly honest with you concerning Harry these past few weeks."

Snape's inner voice began to crow. 'A-ha! Now we discover just what's wrong with the little miscreant! All his scheming, all his plots…' Outwardly, he calmly asked, "In what way, Albus?" He chanced a glance upwards and was shocked by the lightly regretful look on the Headmaster's face.

"I believe Harry has endeavored to convince you that he is something that he is, in fact, not while in your care. If you think back on it, I'm sure you can recognize moments where it seemed as if he were… a bit… different from normal."

Snape's eyes narrowed. "Yes," he gritted out. "There were quite a few of those moments."

Dumbledore looked pained. "Ah. I see. Well, allow me to clear up some misconceptions for you. I would hate for your dealings during the school year to be influenced by events over holidays." He took a long pause. "When you first retrieved Harry from his relatives, you witnessed the state of his house, correct?"

Snape tersely nodded. His hand continued stirring steadily; he said, "Potter lost control of his magic. The results were… dramatic."

"Er." Dumbledore winced. "I don't suppose you'll like what I'm about to say, Severus, but please hear me out." The old wizard actually looked genuinely regretful. "The explosions were not of Harry's doing."

Snape gaped. "But-" he said. "I saw him! He _said_ he did it!"

"No, dear boy," Dumbledore said gently. "He implied it. There is a difference."

"I felt his magic gathering – I felt the pressure-"

"That would have been his mode of protection. It seems that over the past two or so years, Harry's cousin has become involved in illicit activities that have involved Muggle gangs and explosives. The day I sent you to retrieve Harry was the day that young Dursley's cache of incendiaries was discovered. The resulting arguments were fiery enough, and I feared to let Harry stay there any longer; alas, I sent you there too late, and in his petulance, young Dursley set off the majority of explosives within his possession. It was only due to Harry's magical intervention that damage was limited to the roof, when by all rights the entire house should have been in flames."

Snape scowled. "That can't be right. He threatened to do the same thing to Hogwarts as he did to his relatives' house. You must be mistaken."

"I know what Harry said." Dumbledore frowned. "I heard it, as you may recall, and was puzzled as to his motivations. When it became clear that he was manipulating you, and by extension me, to be allowed to returned to Order Headquarters, I believed that it was in his best interests to give him what he wanted." He looked faintly guilty. "That was why I corroborated his story, I am sorry to say."

Snape glowered angrily, but his heart was less than into it. "So you lied to me." 'And not for the first time,' the ever-present voice in his head muttered.

"Yes."

Dumbledore seldom attempted to justify himself. Snape had never been gladder, for otherwise he'd have been tempted to strike the older man.

"And Potter's other odd behaviour?"

"I believe," Dumbledore said carefully, "that if you give that question deep enough thought, you will come to your own conclusions." He sighed. "I am sorry for having misled you previously, Severus; that was not my intent."

Snape pinned the older man with a tired glare, then let out a sigh of his own. "I must concentrate right now," he hinted. No matter that the potion was almost finished. He didn't look up to Dumbledore again as the older man quietly exited.

Instead he stared down into the mire of his potion and lost himself in thoughts. Thinking back on it, it was possible to see that nothing Potter had done had actually been malicious… more designed to cause suspicion and worry than anything else. His OWLs, for instance; if the nitwit truly had managed an 'O' in Potions, it wasn't unreasonable to assume he'd done just as well at everything else – making the tutoring sessions Snape had forced on the both of them somewhat redundant. Snape winced.

No wonder Potter had seemed to be laughing at him throughout the sessions. No wonder he didn't take them seriously. He knew everything already.

Then there was the letter that Snape now knew to be false, designed no doubt with the knowledge that Snape would read it. Did Potter know what kind of reaction he'd garner? Snape curled his upper lip. Unquestionably yes. But why?

And going back to the subject of the house, even if Potter hadn't been responsible for its destruction, the Muggle's reaction to him had been telling. There had been real fear there; nervousness and stifled terror. Potter _surely_ must have done something… Except, Snape's inner voice whispered, it may not have been _Potter_ his uncle had been afraid of. He remembered suddenly Mad-Eye Moody's obvious glee in saying he had threatened the Muggles… and one in particular had been frightened. Snape's face tightened.

So. He had been thoroughly manipulated into thinking that Potter was either hopelessly incompetent, insane, or a future Dark Lord preparing to take the current one's place. The only question was – why? And try as he might, Snape could not divine an answer.

Glancing down he saw that the potion had turned pale green; it was finished. And so was the last of Snape's patience.

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When Harry woke, Remus sat by his side. He dimly remembered having passed out in Snape's arms – how humiliating – while being carried to Hogwarts from Hogsmeade. Bleary eyed, he nonetheless managed a grin for Remus' worried face and weakly squeezed the hand holding his own. He felt floppy and exhausted, with the world fading in and out of clarity around him. Someone had taken his glasses away and he squinted at Remus tiredly.

"Hermione?" he asked immediately.

Remus chuckled. "She's fine, Harry. St. Mungo's is taking care of her nicely and she'll suffer no harmful effects from the curse. Professor Dumbledore questioned her concerning the whereabouts of her parents, and learned that they are safe as well at a Muggle professional conference. They've been contacted and Apparated, and are with her now." He cocked his head thoughtfully. "It was rather strange. They had to dig out a shard of glass from Hermione's hands."

Harry flushed. "About that-"

"No need to explain," Remus cut him off. "I well remember Sirius and James' mirrors. I was surprised at the way you chose to use them… or perhaps mirror traveling was an unexpected event?"

"Yeah," Harry nodded. "I hadn't a clue how I managed to get to Hermione like that."

"It has to do with the nature of the spells on the mirror," Remus explained. "They create a connection between the mirrors and those who possess them; in this case, the connection was strengthened as the shards came from one whole mirror and also by the drawing of both your and Hermione's blood. When you said her name – you _did_ say her name, right? – the connection was physically activated and instead of just allowing you to communicate, you were pulled through the shard's surface. It's a tricky bit of magic you've pulled off, Harry." For a moment, it seemed as if Remus were beaming fondly down at him. Then, abruptly, he frowned. "Never, ever do it again."

Harry meekly nodded. "I swear." He paused in thought. "So you found my mirror shard, then?"

Remus nodded. "I followed the scent of your blood after Albus and Severus had left to find you. Sirius' room?"

"I…" Harry flushed. "Sometimes I stay there."

Remus smiled gently. "It's nothing to be ashamed of. He'd want you to remember him." He paused. "Harry. I know that you saved Hermione's life, but what you did was wrong. You should have found one of us. We're more able to deal with what happened. We have the experience and the responsibility. I know," he took a deep breath, "that you're still dealing with what happened to Sirius, but that doesn't mean you're allowed to be so reckless. You… you have to be better than that. You have to…" He dragged a pale hand through graying hair, his eyes closing tiredly. "You have to not throw your life away so carelessly. You could have gotten hurt, Harry. And I wouldn't have been able to save you…"

"I know," Harry whispered miserably. "I didn't mean to rush into it again. I know I have a 'saving people thing'. But… Hermione was screaming. I couldn't… I just couldn't…" Large green eyes pleaded wordlessly with Remus for acceptance.

The werewolf sighed tiredly. "In the future, please try. If Albus and Severus hadn't been able to get there in time, or if that Third Death Eater had been a little smarter, or if Voldemort had decided to show up…"

"I know," Harry said. "I promise. I won't be so thoughtless again." Unspoken, he amended, 'Well, so long as my friends aren't being threatened.' And he knew how to fix _that_. Tentatively, he broached his idea with Remus. "I've been thinking… once school starts, I should stop hanging around Ron and Hermione quite so much. Don't you agree? I mean, being my friends has made them targets for Voldemort and all the Death Eaters… So they'd be safer if I just stayed away, right?"

Remus looked troubled. "That may be true," he agreed. "But I doubt either would let you get away with it. There's a reason why they're your friends, Harry. They love you."

"And I love them," Harry responded stoutly. "That's why I want to do this."

"It won't be as easy as you think," Remus cautioned. "It'll hurt you and it'll hurt them. Think it over before you do anything, all right?"

Harry frowned, and was about to reply, when a silky-smooth voice interrupted them both.

"Lupin," Snape said. "Poppy had something to say to you." Snape had stood unnoticed at the entry way of the Hospital Wing. He was imposing in his weariness, tall and black like an overbearing bat. Remus stood with a nod to Snape and a final pat to Harry's hand.

"I'll be back soon," he promised, and walked away; leaving Snape and Harry alone to face one another.

As soon as Remus was out of ear-shot – a fair distance, given his lupine abilities – Snape rounded on Harry with dark fury glittering in his eyes. "You," he said. "You have caused me no end of grief. I admit it has taken me some time to cotton on, but now that I have, I want to know why you have been engaging me in pointless mind games all summer. Tell me, Mr. Potter. For once in your pathetic excuse for an existence, tell the truth."

On Harry's hand his scar burned, a tangible reminder of what had happened the last time he'd been accused of lies. Pain spurred him to honesty, and he hissed, "Because I hate you." His eyes were cat-bright and filled with venom. "I hate you so much I can't breathe. It's your fault that Sirius is dead."

"Oh?" Snape's eyes narrowed; his fingers clenched. He was used to being hated. "I suppose the Dark Lord had nothing to do with it - Bellatrix Lestrange had nothing to do with it - _YOUR OWN IDIOCY HAD NOTHING TO DO WITH IT_!"

"No," Harry snarled. "No, it's my fault too. It's their fault too. But you... you're supposed to be on our side. And all you ever wanted from Sirius was his death. I won't forgive you for that. I won't."

"You assume," Snape replied silkily, "that I wish your forgiveness." His eyes were as smooth and depthless as the frozen lake in midwinter. "And I don't."

All energy drained visibly from Harry and he slumped back to his pillow in exhaustion. "Yeah," he said. "Yeah, whatever." His closed eyes looked especially vulnerable without the shield of glasses to cover them. His skin was paler than the sheets he rested on. "Just go."

Snape scowled. He withdrew from his robe's inner pocket two vials of dully shining green potion. He set both on the bed-side table. "Potter." He waited until Harry's eyes opened and focused, however blankly, on him. "Take one of these now. Take the other when you wake. They will help with the pain." He whirled and stalked to the door, missing the suddenly shocked and oddly vulnerable cast Harry's face had taken on.

Harry reached to the first vial as soon as Snape was out of view. He held it in his slightly trembling hand before unstoppering it and downing the contents; his eyes squinched tight in a gesture of distaste and his throat worked desperately to resist gagging. In seconds, though, he felt better; and in seconds more, he was fast asleep. His last thought before succumbing to dreams was, 'I don't understand you at all, Professor…'

He had no idea the sentiment was thoroughly reciprocated.

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Lupin stopped him as he was exiting the Hospital Wing. The werewolf looked strained, but his eyes smiled lightly at him. "I wanted to thank you for saving Harry tonight," he said. "I know you put yourself at risk."

Snape snorted. "This is not the first, nor, I suspect the last, time I will have to put myself in danger to salvage the boy."

Lupin looked pensive. "I think that's what everyone who cares for him must go through."

"I, care?" Snape scoffed. "I couldn't care less if the twit were the Dark Lord himself. It is enough that Albus cares."

"You can't fool me," Lupin actually smiled. "Your latest bout of gallantry has given you away." He paused then, and looked pensive. Snape followed his gaze to see Potter on his bed, pale and limp with black hair haloed about his head like spilled ink. "Do you think… that he will survive what's coming?

Snape huffed impatiently and moved to bypass Lupin and enter the hall. He had no time to waste speaking of empty-headed Gryffindor brats, especially not to equally empty-headed Gryffindor beasts. Something of Lupin's tone beseeched him, however, and he paused in the doorway. He thought back to how he'd been so skillfully manipulated, so easily played… his weaknesses exposed and exploited; his misconceptions catered to and enhanced… misdirection upon misdirection. Potter had almost been Slytherin in his machinations, had it not been for the sole fact that none of his maneuverings had garnered him anything useful; they had all been used for pointless, useless revenge. This had cost Potter whatever respect he may have been able to gain. Still… it showed genuine potential, potential Snape had no doubt would soon be fulfilled.

The thought made him shiver. He did not know whether from fear or anticipation. Did he think Potter would survive what was surely to come?

He swept past Lupin, a slender black silhouette disappearing down the shadowed halls.

He had no doubt.

* * *

Ahhh! It's finished! It's done! And the sequel is already plotted, it just needs to be paced and fleshed out! But, I'm sorry everyone, I won't be writing the sequel until sometime in June; the other half of this writing duo has been pressuring me to write a story I've been teasing her with for the longest time. (That's right Snake-Fodder! You're getting your story soon, ya yerk!) Before I'd finished "Roundabout...", I'd planned to have a different type of ending; since I've planned out a sequel, that ending has been incorporated into the sequel. I hope that this chapter provides a definitive enough end for you all and that it clears up any lingering misconceptions that Harry is actually 'Dark Lord'-ish or anything like that. He's just employing his rather unique brand of revenge on Snape to get back at him for having played off of Sirius' weaknesses during the previous year. I'm sorry this chapter was lacking in the humour and heavy on the melodrama, but come the sequel, you shall be (hopefully) laughing again!

Thanks to everyone for reading and enjoying my work!

**opalish** - Thanks! I'm glad for your vote of confidence. Unfortunately, action and humour don't tend to be my strong points... I'm working on it though! I hope you'll read the sequel when it comes out in a few weeks!

**Howl** - Hm... a muse name, eh? And I'd suppose you'd be loathe to go back to 'Serendipity'... Let me ponder this deep theological question for a while! Heh. I'm really glad you liked the last chapter! 'Twas wonderful to receive your splendiferous review and I'm glad you agree with all the characterizations. And now you _have_ to read the sequel, if only to see what I've decided your muse name must be!

**Coriel** - Thank you! Your review saved my metaphorical butt, since I was forgetting about the mirror shards altogether in the midst of the battle and the cleaning up part. You are solely responsible for the talk between Remus and Harry concerning mirror shards! Thanks once again!

**Purple Raveness** - Thanks so much! I hope you like the sequel as well.

**dmweasley** - Heh, yup! And now you have to wait for the sequel! (...assuming you still have interest in the story...)

**Mebear** - :grin: Thanks! Doesn't it sound like something Snape would say?

**Em** - Wow - there's going to be a 2nd and 3rd part to PotC! Yay! I can't wait! Are they getting all the same actors to come back, or what? Eeee, I am so watching all of 'em! Okay, my fangirlism is out of the way now. So, you have many questions... that will be answered in the sequel (I'm trying to give everyone incentive to read it. I know. I'm bad.) And, hm... you're right, Snape _should_ be a good cook! Huh. Now I want Snape food!Oh, and as per your 'fic request (with the stuck-as-animagi Harry or Snape)... it's in the works. Seriously. Keep your eyes peeled for the next two weeks or so. As always, thank you so much for the enthusiastic review and the hug. I hope to see you again in the sequel::many hugs:

**Strega - **I know! Remus was almost acting like Sirius, wasn't he? Except that he didn't go rushing off into danger where he wouldn't have done any good... so... good job Remus! I hope this latest and last chapter doesn't disappoint, and that it meshes well with the rest of the 'fic. I hope to see you whilst writing the sequel, where loose ends you've probably not even noticed will be worked out and expanded upon! It's always wonderful to have a Ravenclaw searching through my stories for sub-text, plot, motivations, etc... and I know it encourages me to be a better, more complex author! Thank you again! (p.s. - I'll be explaining the fight scene better in the sequel, so it'll be understood just why Harry's magic didn't go wild on him and save him. So you'd better read! ...or, you could e-mail me and I'll just explain in private, where I won't be giving spoilers on the rest of the story...)

**Clodia** - Well... yes, Dumbledore was implying a triple homicide; but I attempted to make it clear that he was only doing it to help save Snape (with the whole, "He saw your face, Severus," comment). Anyhow, I'm so glad you liked the action! There'll be plenty more where that came from in the sequel, as well as lots of Snape-Harry sniping.Thank you so much for being an awesome reviewer all throughout the story. It means a lot to me.

**the yerk (aka, 'memoria')** - Heh. Poor un-dead Fred. She can never escape you! NEVER! BWAHAHAHAHAHA! ...ahem. see you tomorrow, right?

**AwesomePossum** - Alas, the brilliance must now come to an end. At least it seems that though I've dragged both Sherlock and Watson down the murky path of obsession, they've managed to find their way back to (relative) normality! You, AwesomePossum, have been a splendiferous reviewer who has never failed to make me smile. Thank you so much! I'm truly grateful, and I hope to see you in the sequel as well!

**Mademoiselle nom de plume** - Actually, it doesn't surprise me that you can't tell which House I favor. I've discussed it with Strega before, and it's come up... I am, surprisingly enough, a Hufflepuff with Ravenclaw leanings and Slytherin slynesss. Perhaps the only trait I truly share with Gryffindor is the inability to look before leaping! And, ah! I'm so glad I've got at least one person who'll be reading the sequel when it comes! How wonderful! I can't wait to see you there!

**wickedwizard** - Hee, awesome review! Thanks for your words of support, and I hope this update is quick enough for you! Hope to see you in the sequel as well!

**Virginia Riddle-Malfoy -** Oh, er, I'm sorry, but I don't read Animorphs... To me and my friend, 'yerk' is 'jerk' with an accent (it's a massive in-joke involving soap and midnight math marathons and a woman who can't stop saying 'Corinne, Corinne, Corinne'). I hope you've enjoyed the story, though! And thank you for reviewing!


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